My son always had an amazing ability to get the best girls. As early as the eighth grade, when he barely had peach-fuzz on his face, he snagged the girl with the earliest physical development. She could easily have dated high schoolers, but Sam somehow won her over.
His remarkable talent continued through his high school and college years. What he had I couldn't fathom. I'm not hard on the eyes myself, but Sam's seemingly unconscious magnetism has always been a mystery to me. I just came to accept it and to enjoy it. Sam's Girls, as I came to think of them. But oh my God, when he entered college, they became Sam's
Women
. With their short skirts fetchingly revealing tanned, athletic legs, and their form-fitting sweaters pressing against mature, luscious breasts, they were, like all 18-year-old girls, gorgeous and sexy. For me, it became a bit like having your own skin magazine to look at and daydream about, mentally undressing them, comparing them one to another, ranking them and visualizing them in various poses. It was my secret pleasure. Yeah, I know: forbidden fruit. But a thousand years of social mores don't stand a chance against a million years of evolution. And imagination is not illegal. At least not yet, anyway.
If I'd had Sam's talent for women, I doubt I would ever have gotten married, and I pretty much thought he wouldn't either. Why
would
he? But to my surprise, not long out of college, he did. Well, as you can imagine, she was a knockout! In my secret ranking she received a number one. Long dark hair, full lips, sparkling green eyes. Add in voluptuous breasts both firm and high, a narrow waist and wide hips that tapered into long well-shaped legs. For a long time, I felt and acted like a tongue-tied adolescent around her. I couldn't take my eyes off her. It took all my self-control to not embarrass myself in front of Sam or my wife.
Ellen didn't help.
"My goodness," she said to me when we first met, "I can certainly see where Sam got his good looks! But you must have had him when you were very young; you really look great." This, coupled with a pursing of full red lips and a smolder in those green eyes set my inner man howling at the moon. Was there a hint of promise there? I wanted so badly to see one I couldn't trust my judgement. Try as I might, I couldn't help stealing glances at her even as the four of us sat and chatted. More than once I thought I caught her looking back at me speculatively, through long, half-closed lashes.
In what was both a relief and a disappointment, soon after he married Ellen, Sam took a job in Virginia. With the introduction of distance, I didn't have to maintain an iron faΓ§ade around Ellen except when they visited.
During these visits we were always polite and affectionate to one another. Neither Sam nor my wife showed any signs of suspecting the turmoil Ellen engendered in me. I still occasionally caught a few of those glances from Ellen, but I convinced myself that I was imagining things that I wanted rather than what was really there. Maybe Ellen was just one of those unconsciously sexy women whose physical allure is just a natural part of their personality, a promise they radiate without ever intending to fulfill. Maybe.
It was a Sunday in late June. Sam had been interviewing for a job nearby, and he and Ellen had been visiting for the weekend. They were about to leave for home.
"Thanks, Dad," Sam was saying. "We appreciate you and Mom putting us up."
"Hey, no problem. We both love having you here. I really enjoy it." I bit my tongue then, because I meant that in a way it would not be good for Sam to know. "Anyway, where's your lovely wife?"
"Oh, she's upstairs finishing her shower. She slept late this morning and didn't have time to take one before breakfast. She'll be down soon. Meantime I'll go load up the car and run out for some gas."