Extended Family - Book One Illustrated

The Extended Family

by Robert Wolf

©Copyright 2007 by Robert Wolf

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Chapter 1 – Picking Up the Pieces

I needed the meditation and mindfulness to give me relief from my mental distress and torment.

I was almost in the lotus position. I’d substituted sitting Indian style with a nice straight back rather than twisting my somewhat arthritic legs into a position where they’d ache not only during the lotus position but also for days afterwards. I had been this way for about half an hour, my hands extended across my knees in an open accepting position. I was on the beach at dawn; fortunately, this time of year dawn didn’t come that early. It was early November in Sarasota, Florida. I wasn’t sure this therapy was for me, but I was desperate.

I gradually uncurled from my meditation and looked around at the morning, finally paying attention to what was going on around me for the first time since I’d started my meditation and had my day’s ‘uplifting’ experience. Today was one of the first times that I had become ‘one’ with the sound of the waves and the squawk of the shore birds, the feel of the sand beneath me, and the gentle wind at my back.

I’d come every day for the past month, rain or shine, even on Christmas and New Year’s mornings. I had elected to spend the holiday period alone this year, for the first time in the past five-and-a-half decades of my life. The meditation was part of my self-therapy to get over the loss eight months earlier of Nancy, my wife of thirty-four years.

At first, after she died, I remained in denial, conning myself that she’d walk through the door any minute and give me the latest on what our two daughters and their families were up to as she always had. They coddled me for a while, but I told them to stop. We talked every other week, but in my depressed state, I had little to report. What would I say? I stared at the wall all day again?

Then I got angry at everything and everybody. I hurled a favorite vase through a window; I was mean and vindictive to sympathetic friends and merchants at their least infraction. I thought I’d sue her doctors or the hospital or someone, anyone I could think of. I was royally pissed. Nancy endured a two-year debilitating illness, and then died. I still dissolved into tears at the drop of a pin. My soulmate was gone. I’d cried almost the entire day before.

A month after Nancy’s death I discovered the numbing effects of alcohol. I moved from an occasional glass of wine with dinner to consuming an entire bottle at dinner and then at lunch too, and then I found that Bloody Mary’s at breakfast were nice, then two, then I was drinking all day and all evening. It deadened the pain and I was then a mean and vindictive drunk for weeks – for months. When I was lucky, I passed out and slept a dreamless state. My solution for a hangover was more booze.

I entered a period where I blamed myself for everything, even Nancy’s illness and I drank more. I became even more morose and deeply depressed. I know my kids were worried about me and so were the few friends we’d developed in our neighborhood. They could watch me sliding away. I’d even thought of suicide but was too cowardly to court that idea for long. The consuming question was, how could I live without Nancy?

One night I couldn’t sleep. Nighttime television is an unending series of infomercials and was no solace. I felt amazingly clearheaded and for some strange reason didn’t want alcohol to dull my senses. A small voice inside told me to go to the beach. At four o’clock in the darkness of morning I was the only car on the road as I drove the mile or so to the nearest beach – the Gulf of Mexico.

I walked in the dark to the water’s edge and sat. I cried and sobbed to the setting western stars over losing Her – my only and greatest love. People that had known us marveled at our closeness and relationship, our very evident love, caring and respect for one another, and I think they were jealous at how we still did little romantic things for one another all the time. We were always on each other’s minds.

Nancy and I met in college, fell in love – deeply in love, got married when we were halfway through. Somehow, we both graduated, and did all the things a fine outstanding couple were supposed to do – careers, kids, houses, vacations, relatives, friends, holidays, and wealth accumulation. When Nancy got sick, we both stopped working, we didn’t need to earn money anyway. We tried to pack in another thirty years of living into the year before she passed.

Nancy was my rock and I was her rock. I was to protect her from all the bad things that an ugly world might throw at her. But I couldn’t combat her cancer. No one could. I prayed. I made a thousand promises to God or anyone that would listen. “Please heal her.” Nothing worked.

She weakened and tired quickly. I held her in my arms as she’d sleep on my shoulder. I would kiss her hair and forehead. Then she was bed ridden by some of her treatments, but nothing really extended her prognosis. This was a predictable disease. I’d sleep with her, holding her entire body against mine and bathing her in love. “Oh, dear God, that’s all gone,” I sobbed and wailed to the night on that morning. I felt sorry for myself – sorry for Nancy – sorry for all the people I’d pissed off with my anger and lashing out.

November dawn came. I stood and for the first time thanked the Universe for the time we’d had together – thirty-five years from when we’d discovered each other. The Gulf was lapping at my feet, the water chilly in the cool morning air. I fell on my knees at the edge of the surf and bowed my head and prayed, asking for redemption and forgiveness.

An Inner Voice said to come back each morning for three months to pray and meditate.

So, I got into a routine. I’d get up an hour or more before sunrise and go to the same spot on the beach. I’d sit and try to open my mind to whatever messages I was to receive. Some amazing things happened in the first thirty days: I stopped my binge drinking almost immediately; my attitude towards others improved although I was still personally depressed – I guess I stopped trying to take it out on someone else; and I decided not to sue anyone; after all, shit happens and this time it just happened to Nancy – and thus to me.

I examined myself more closely in a meditation one morning in early January. A voice stated quite clearly to me, ‘Talk to your friends. Go and help someone else.’ I actually came out of my meditative state and turned around to see who was talking to me at this early hour, but no one was there. I realized suddenly that I knew the voice; it was Nancy’s. I didn’t believe in ghosts and yet … I sobbed at the realization that her Spirit was alive and in contact with me.

I cried and tried to tell her how much I still loved her. I babbled into the dawn skies about how I missed her, and everything I could think of that I’d always wanted to tell her. Eventually, I returned home.

Nine o’clock in the morning is the earliest you should call someone at home in Florida. Retirees like to sleep late, so I puttered around the house and my desk getting things in order and making a list of the people I wanted to call.

A little after nine, I called Dave LaSalle, a friend and neighbor that I’d known for twelve years. He was surprised to hear from me and even more surprised at my apology to him for my abusive behavior over the past months. He was forgiving and said he understood and hoped I’d suffer him if he got the same way if his wife died. I told him I’d be glad to help him in some way if he had anything that needed doing; he said he didn’t but he’d keep the offer in mind. We chatted some more and by the end of our call I felt like I’d at least patched up some of the wounds I’d inflicted on him and our relationship by my mindless anger.

I repeated the process a dozen times before noon with other people that had been in our circle of friends. Every person I called was home and responded just as Dave had, with sympathy, tolerance and forgiveness – even love - in spite of how rotten I’d been for these months.

I felt renewed at the end of my calls. I dug out my bicycle and rode into the city, found a sidewalk luncheon spot and enjoyed a cheeseburger and a diet coke. I nodded and smiled at the people that strolled by the restaurant tables as I read the news on my cellphone. I made a point of not complaining about anything – even to myself. Everything was perfect.

Suddenly, I realized I was paying a little more attention to the pretty women than I was to anyone else – and there were a lot of pretty women downtown that lunchtime. I tried to guess what they did. There were several younger women (girls in my mind) that I guessed worked at the bank. They were each wearing short thin dresses that clung to their curves and revealed shapely legs as the wind whirled the light fabrics.

There were tourists of all ages dressed in tight shorts and scoop neck tops. Some were braless and I noticed more than one whose excitement at life was revealed by the evidence of nipples poking through the blouse material.

Some of the professional women that walked by caught my eye as well. I expected most of them were lawyers or paralegals since the town seemed to thrive on them for trust management and estate planning, not to mention the real estate market. They carried themselves differently, more upright and alert, more aware. Their clothes were sexier in a way, more expensive but cut to seduce without revealing too much flesh. I guessed this contributed to higher billing rates and chuckled to myself over the thought.

As I rode my bike the three miles back home, I analyzed my sudden fascination with women after so long a hiatus. Perhaps I was healing.

The next morning in my meditation I heard the voice say, “Go and help someone other than yourself.” I refocused and continued to listen but that message was the clearest of all. Maybe the voice hadn’t been Nancy after all. I was aware of the message, and knew it came from somewhere, but I just couldn’t really hear it.

My friend Martin Williams called a few days later and asked if my offer to help in any way I could still stood. I told him that of course it did. He said their daughter Clare had a friend who was moving to the area and looking for help in relocating, finding an apartment and job, and getting acquainted. He was wondering if I’d be willing to help. He was willing, but tied up with his work as an antique dealer with a store to run. A few minutes later I had a name and telephone number on a scrap of paper in front of me - Marilyn Seaburn, 443-555-1984.

I thought for a few minutes about what’d I say when I called and then dialed the number.

“Hi. Marilyn here,” a cheery voice answered my call.

“Marilyn, my name is Jim Rice. My friend Martin Williams just gave me your name and number based on a call from his daughter Claire, and asked if I’d play host to your arrival and job search around Sarasota, help you find a place to live and so forth. I just wanted to introduce myself and tell you how glad I would be to help you in any way that I can. I’m at loose ends, and this will give me another way to payback the universe for some of the blessings that I’ve received.” I put extra energy into sounding upbeat. Compared to how I’d been for months, this was a major improvement.

Her perky voice responded, “Well, I’m certainly impressed by how fast THAT circle closed. I talked to Clare, Martin’s daughter, about an hour ago and told her what I needed, what I’m actually desperate for. Your call is an answer to my plea – my prayer.”

“Glad to be of service,” I responded.

Marilyn continued, “I’m in my car driving down to Sarasota now. I’m coming from Ohio. I’m probably four or five hours out. I know nobody there, well except you now and I guess indirectly Claire’s father. I knew Clare from college and we saw each other every now and then. Somehow, I remembered her parents were in Sarasota and that’s where I wanted to go. Claire raved about the city and growing up there. Oh, I’ll explain it all later when I see you.”

“Look, you’ll arrive late this afternoon. I’d be delighted if you’d join me for a drink and even dinner. I’m completely open and at your disposal. I can help you find a place to stay and you can freshen up here at the house.”

She said, “That’d be wonderful.”

She had my phone number since I’d called her cell phone. She said she’d call me when she was closer and ready for detailed directions. I told her which Interstate exit to aim for and we hung up.

I put some wine on ice, thawed some steaks, made a salad and straightened the house from a mass of clutter I’d allowed to accumulate in my months of depression and drunkenness. I found the vacuum cleaner. Three hours later I was proud of the place again and feeling the best I had in a long time.

A short time later, the phone rang. It was Marilyn and she was on Fruitville Road headed into town. I gave her some directions and twenty minutes later a beat-up brown Chevy sedan laden to the max with clothing and luggage pulled into my driveway where I stood waiting for her arrival.

“Welcome to Sarasota,” I greeted her, even before she got out of the car. “Come in and make yourself at home.”

Marilyn Seaburn looked to be about forty as she sat in her car decompressing from driving for so long. She had a very pretty face – model quality. Her medium-length blond hair was windblown and had an unkempt look. She gave a big sigh then uncoiled herself from behind the steering wheel and stepped out of the car.

She was wearing snug-fitting Levi’s and an expensive and colorful t-shirt top. She had flats for shoes. The immediate impression she gave however was of someone who had dressed in a hurry and then slept in their clothes. I also noticed a heavy layer of makeup, but didn’t allow that to influence me.

Marilyn was about five-foot-five and on the thin side except for a well-endowed chest. She stretched for the sky; I gawked at her flat stomach and the shapely breasts that tried to escape from her t-shirt but I managed to be looking into her car when she brought her head back to eye level.

“I am soooooo glad to be out of that car,” she said looking at me and pushing her large sunglasses into her messed up hair. “I’ve lived in that vehicle every minute of the past thirty hours except for gas, food and potty stops – oh yea, and a couple of long naps. I must look a fright … and I’m a neat-nik, too.” She tried to smooth some wrinkles out of her top.

“Look, why don’t you come in a freshen up. You could take a dip in the pool if you have a swimsuit. Or there’s a shower.”

“I like the idea of a swim. And you have sunshine here! This is sooooo much better than Hamilton, Ohio was two nights ago – it was snowing. God was that only yesterday – it seems like a lifetime ago.” She smiled at me and added more to herself, “In some ways it was a lifetime ago.” She wrinkled her brow in a serious gesture. “I’ll tell you later. I want to swim, if that offer still stands.”

She pulled a small bag and some loose clothes out of the back of her car and followed me into the house. The back of the house faced a large bay and also wrapped around a nice backyard pool that I kept heated although I didn’t use it too much. Marilyn clapped her hands with joy as she looked though the house and saw the pool. I told her it was heated. January in Sarasota can be chilly.

She said loudly, “I’m coming pool. I’ll be there in thirty seconds.” She picked up her bag and I aimed her at the guest bedroom and bath and told her she’d also find a towel in there she could use. I explained that she could shower in there later.

I opened the slider in front of the bath door and wandered out onto the patio. The weather was in the high sixties, but the pool would be at about eighty. Thirty seconds later a colorful human blur sped by me and hurled itself into the deep end of the pool. A shriek of joy accompanied her contact with the cool water.

“This is marvelous. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” she shouted with glee as she surfaced. She started to swim back and forth, doing lazy laps.

I grinned and sat on the edge of the shallow end and dangled my feel in the water. I realized that all she’d done was pull off her Levi’s and shoes, and jumped into the pool with the same top she had on earlier. I also noted as she swam around that she had on a light blue thong that was doing little to hide her perfectly shaped butt that occasionally broke through the surface of the water as she swam.

Marilyn swam a couple of dozen laps with some obvious athletic talent. Her strokes were smooth and well-practiced; her turns were also classic Olympic style. I wished I could have offered a larger pool to use her skills in.

She finally pulled up near me and stood. Her shirt clung to her round breasts and left little to the imagination as to their shape or excitement at the cool air. There was some transparency there, too. She gave me a big grin.

“You don’t know how big a treat this is for me, Mr. Rice.”

“Please call me Jim. And you’re more than welcome to swim here anytime you want. It’s nice to see the pool getting some use. It hasn’t had much in the past couple of years.”

Marilyn came up the steps allowing me to marvel at her shapely legs and how little the thong did to hide her nether region or cheeks. She wrapped the towel around herself then said, “Let me shower and change then we can talk.” She scampered into the pool bath and shut the door.

My tongue was hard and I was all but speechless. It had been years since I’d been around anyone that shapely or seen that much skin in something other than a magazine or more recently on the Internet.

It was about six. I stood outside the bath door and yelled in, “Would you like a glass of wine? Red? White?”

“Yes, please,” she said. “White. I’ll be two minutes.” I could hear the shower running.

I went into my kitchen that also opened onto the pool patio and opened a bottle of Sancerre wine, a flavorful wine from the Loire Valley. I had a couple of other wines too if she didn’t like it. I poured us two glasses, and set out some cheeses and crackers as well.

Marilyn appeared, barefoot and back in her Levi’s. Her pale skin was aglow from her warm shower. A feminine pink scoop neck top had replaced the rumpled and now very wet t-shirt she’d swam in. Her wet blond hair was brushed back and held in place with a pretty wide black ribbon. She’d dabbed on a hint of lipstick and rouge on her cheeks too. I could also see a faint bruise on one cheek. She was very feminine and pretty; my heart quickened.

I gestured to a bar stool at the kitchen counter and brought a glass of wine and the hors d’oeuvres to her. “So, tell me about Marilyn Seaburn,” I said.

She shot me a sideways glance and sipped at the wine. “Oh, I like this,” she said as she took her second sip of wine. I told her its lineage briefly. There was a long silence.

“I’m running away from home,” she finally announced. “Two days ago, I was deep in my second failed marriage and I figured it was time to clear out. So, after dinner that night, I did.” She shot me look to see how I received that news. I just nodded and encouraged her to continue.

“I have an eighteen-year-old daughter, Melinda, at Ohio State. She knows. She told me for years to just get up and leave, but I couldn’t until now. I kept postponing because I didn’t know where to go. She told me how to choose a place. I figured out Sarasota based on her idea.”

“How’s that?” I asked.

“Mel, that’s what I call her, said to pick a state – I picked Florida because of the weather – and then throw a dart or something like that at a map of the state to pick a city. I essentially did that and that’s how I got Sarasota. I was in the middle of nowhere, but I remembered Claire’s praise about growing up here, so this became the place. Now here I am having a nice glass of wine with you,” she toasted me with a tip of her glass.

“You want a complete start over?” I asked. “Job, apartment, friends, … everything?”

“Yes. Completely. I don’t know where to start,” She paused, “and to tell you the truth it’s a little bit scary – but not as scary as staying married in Ohio.”

“What did you do in Ohio? Job? Schooling? Tell me about your background.”

Marilyn talked for fifteen minutes. She’d graduated from Ohio State about twenty years earlier and kicked around in a series of marketing jobs, mostly for industrial companies. About ten years ago she got a steady job doing inside sales for a small steel company. She’d gotten proficient at computers and helped introduce a lot of new systems into the company to modernize its business model.

I asked about her personal life. She’d married the first time right out of college. That marriage failed after two years. She’d had Mel by that time and became a single mother who worked and raised her kid. She’d remarried and now, seven years into that marriage, had given up on that one too.

“Any chance of reconciliation?” I asked.

“Nooooo. Not this time. I’ve left before but he found me and dragged me back home – literally. I was sore and bruised for a month the last time. Now, I really have to go underground. I don’t plan on even telling Mel where I am; I’ll call her and let her know I’ve landed, but I won’t tell her where. Doug, that’s my husband’s name, doesn’t know Clare Williams and won’t figure out that I’m here any way that I can think of.”

“Care to tell me the problem?”

Her voice became quieter as she unfolded her story. “Oh, everybody knew. He kept cheating on me – drunken shit that he was. Then he got abusive, too. He broke my finger about a year ago. At least once a week he’d come home and slap me around. He did it Tuesday night and that was the last straw.”

She pulled up her blouse part way and showed me a large bruise on her left side. I gestured at the bruise on her cheek and she nodded. I was horrified that a man would do that to a woman – to anybody. “After that punch I gritted my teeth and I said, ‘Self, I’m outta here.’ He went out to drink with friends, I raced around and packed, jammed everything in the car, drove away, and here I am.”

“What about work?” I asked.

“I called Art Gosling, my boss, on the drive down. He knew I’d get whacked because cosmetics only hide so many bruises. He’d seen them before. I told him I needed to leave and start over. He’s always been very supportive and this was no exception. He said to use him as a reference and to know I had a good job if I ever came back to Ohio. I hated to leave my friends there but I had to.”

Her tone and demeanor indicated she was sad at the thought of leaving her life behind. She had tears in her eyes as well as a look of defiance – an interesting combination.

We paused in our conversation then I offered some steaks. In a move of evident self-bravado, Marilyn gave me a big grin, “Let me help someway. Yes, let’s eat here.”

Fifteen minutes later I’d produced a steak dinner with all the trimmings. Marilyn just sat and watched as I wrestled up the things I’d prepared in the afternoon. “You prepared all this for me,” she said suddenly after figuring out that this was not a normal meal for a single, middle fifties guy.

“I had an important guest coming from Ohio,” I laughed. “Now I’m especially glad I did after hearing your story. I really am glad to help and to let you know I’m here for you.”

Marilyn got me telling my life story over dinner. I was able to do it for the first time without getting maudlin and without tears coming to my eyes. She seemed very understanding about my loss less than a year before.

After dinner we both made fast work of the cleanup and then took what was left of our wine and went and sat on the patio to watch the lights on the other side of the bay twinkle as we talked. We entertained each other further with events and stories from our lives. We weren’t always dwelling on our problems or losses, but rather on the happy times we’d had with our families and friends. We laughed a lot, something I realized I hadn’t done too much of for a couple of years.

When the wine was gone, I offered her some Grand Marnier or other liqueur. She took the orangey sweet liquid fire in a small glass from me a moment later. I had some Kahlua. We sipped and got quiet, just enjoying the night sounds from the neighborhood.

Suddenly, Marilyn said, “Oh, heavens. I’ve enjoyed myself too much and over stayed my welcome. I must leave.” She jumped up and started to gather her things.

“Where are you going?” I asked without getting up.

“Oh, I’ll find a room nearby and see you tomorrow.”

I caught her anxious look and put my hand up. “You were going to sleep in your car again somewhere, right?”

She guilty and nodded slowly and looked like a kid who’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Yes, but it won’t be a problem for me. I’ve done it before – lots; not just this trip.”

“Well, it’s sort of a problem for me,” I said. She looked puzzled. “You see I promised myself I would go out of my way to help you – way out of my way. I also have this very empty guest room that hasn’t been used in a long time. I need someone to live there for a while and bring it back to life. You see if you stay, you’ll be helping me and making me feel that I have honored a promise to myself.”

She looked uncertain about whether to accept.

I tried to make the point stronger and make her feel safer if that was her problem, “I’ll be over on that side of the house. You’ll have your own bedroom, bath and phone – the door even locks. You can check-in your daughter if you want. Try it for a night or two. If you’ve found a place by them you can move, if not please accept my invitation to stay for as long as it takes until you get on your feet. No rent or anything.”

I paused then asked her, “How much money do you have?”

She blanched then answered in a low voice, “About two-hundred dollars.”

I said, “Look, save that for a rainy day or part of your job hunt. If you stay here, it’s free room and board. No strings, no obligations. Just pay it forward someday.”

She thought about it for another ten seconds. “Yes, I’ll stay.” Her eyes teared up and she turned and hugged me. It wasn’t a passionate ‘come on’ hug; it was just a warm, hug of gratitude.

I helped her bring a few more things in from her car and then straightened up the kitchen so I could head for bed.

As I started to head off to my part of the house, I said to her, “Oh, by the way, you might hear me going out for an hour around six a.m. I go down to the beach about that time to … umm, to think and clear my head – to meditate.”

She nodded in somewhat puzzled understanding of what I’d just said.

I slept well that night undisturbed by so many of the demons that had haunted me over the past months.

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I seemed to center myself more easily than usual the next morning at the beach. My mind drifted and I let it drift instead of trying to force an unnatural solitude into my head. After the sunrise, I became aware of two important things I should do: “Help someone other than yourself” and “Give love unconditionally.” I didn’t question either; I was learning not to judge as much when a message like that popped up so clearly in my head. They were simple and direct, and again clearly understood but voiceless. A few minutes later, I picked up my mat and went to the car.

As I drove home, I picked up two coffees and a newspaper for Marilyn but she was still asleep when I arrived home a little after seven o’clock.

I puttered quietly in the kitchen, eating a light breakfast and reading the paper. About half-past seven she padded into the kitchen from the guest room. Her hair was beautifully tousled with a lock of her golden blond hair hanging over one squinted eye. She looked amazingly sexy in a white t-shirt that hung down just past her hips and teased as to whether it would reveal anything further. She had beautiful and shapely legs, the kind you’d see in an advertisement for fine stockings or perfume.

She came up to me with a weak smile on her face as I held the cup of coffee out to her. She took a sip of the coffee then came and kissed me on the cheek.

“Oh, you are going to spoil me so while I am here. This is marvelous service that I could get used to,” she said in a slightly hoarse morning voice.

“My pleasure, m’lady.” I smiled. I actually smiled, and I amazed myself.

She slid onto a high stool next to me, unintentionally flashing me a microsecond view of a pink thong and the very top of her shapely legs. She caught me looking and smiled.

“I bought you a morning paper so you can check out the Help Wanted section. Sunday’s paper has the better ads though.” I pushed the paper open to the Classifieds section to her.

She nodded groggily and drank some more coffee. Her eyes were opening slowly to the bright morning light coming in from the patio.

After asking her preferences, I fixed her some cereal and juice that she devoured.

After breakfast she went back to her part of the house and freshened up and reappeared dressed in shorts and a light top. She was much more alert when she came back out; she also looked like she was ready to start the changes in her life.

Since I’d done a lot of recruiting and hiring in my corporate work earlier in my life, I volunteered to help her get her thoughts organized. We sat for a while and discussed her previous work, her skills and her earning history. She’d been earning $95,000 at the steel company she’d just left and usually got a ten- to twenty-percent bonus too. I homed in on her computer skills since these were usually the tipping point in today’s job market. Overall, I was impressed with her background.

Instead of just opening the paper and looking at the ads (which I doubted would provide any real insight into the local job market), we outlined her skills, objectives and background and put together a pretty good resume and cover letter.

As we did this, I could see her confidence filling into a void she’d apparently been left with by her husband. When I commented on this, she kissed me on the cheek again and said, “I know whom to thank for THAT.” I think I blushed.

We had a quick lunch and looked in the newspaper at which companies were advertising for jobs, however, those ads were not slanted towards Marilyn’s skills or salary level. I brought out another computer and we sat at my dining room table, went on the Internet and looked up the larger companies in the Sarasota area. We sorted them favoring manufacturing operations or those likely to have some sort of sales and supply chain management issues. We had a list thirty companies more likely to hire someone like Marilyn when we were finished. We’d also expanded our search to Bradenton, the town just north of Sarasota and Venice, the major town to the south, because they had some good industrial companies in their areas.

She accepted some gentle recommendations that I made to put the real estate industry and their construction suppliers low on her list and to elevate straight manufacturing companies that shipped their products more globally. Further we looked for companies close to the same size as the one she’d just left. We researched our top tier of companies and talked about the pros and cons of working for each.

By the time we stopped it was four o’clock. I knew that calling for job information or inquiries on a Friday afternoon would not be productive, so I talked Marilyn into putting on a swimsuit and joining me for a walk down the beach. She was excited at the idea and scampered off to change. She’d never seen the Gulf of Mexico.

Marilyn in a two-piece swimsuit was a heavenly vision of long beautiful legs, and angles, curves and bumps topped by a long blond hair in a ponytail and a pretty smile. I grabbed some beach towels from the closet after I’d changed to my boring swimsuit and we headed out to Lido Beach.

We walked the entire beach from Big Pass and the State Park all the way up to New Pass and back. We gathered dozens of shells she thought worth saving in a net bag I’d brought and often waded in the cool water, although neither of us went swimming all the way. The water was cold, but the temperature that afternoon was on the warm side. We walked close to each other and I basked in the close proximity I had to this beautiful creature. We bumped and brushed against each other frequently as we walked north.

On our return trip we held hands the whole way back. I don’t even recall who first took the other’s hand, but I found it exhilarating. I was as nervous and excited as I’d been when I’d been thirteen and went on my first real date. I was also aware of the obvious bruise on her left side that she’d brought with her from Ohio.

We drove back to the house to clean up and change for dinner. The sun had about set by that time. I’d suggested we eat out so I could drive her around a few areas of Sarasota. I must admit, however, I was not rushing to see Marilyn cover up her body. It was SO easy on the eyes.

I’d dressed and was pouring some wine when Marilyn appeared from the guest room in a very nice light summer frock. She had on spike heels too, my favorite, and had pulled her hair back in a gorgeous French twist. She’d applied a subtle bit of makeup to add some further tone to the sun she’d picked up during our walk and I saw a little extra on her facial bruise. She had a sweater over her arm. I held out a glass of chardonnay to her and she accepted it with a smile.

Marilyn said sweetly, “Oh, I am going to be so in your debt by the time I get a job and leave,” she said with a laugh. She came close and politely hugged me as she held the glass away so it wouldn’t spill. I kissed her forehead as it went by. I felt two things in quick succession: first, Marilyn was not wearing a bra and I felt her erect nipples as they grazed my chest during our hug; second, I felt more than just a twinge in my groin telling me I was excited at that fact as well as at Marilyn overall. I didn’t think I’d ever respond that way again.

I wanted to pull her to me again, but decided I’d let her set the pace for any kind of relationship we might develop. I was still not sure how she was feeling given her decision to leave her husband in Ohio and escape her abuse and come to Florida. Was she healing rapidly? Were there still open mental wounds?

Then my mind wrestled with my own situation. Here I am a mid-fifties guy, graying hair, pretty good shape, but almost old enough to be her father. Certainly, I started out to be her mentor and guide. She wouldn’t be interested in me and after the months I’ve just been through I need to do penance perhaps. I got down on myself and convinced myself I wasn’t worthy of any serious attention by Marilyn or any other woman at this stage. I did resolve to be as helpful as I could.

I snapped myself back from my thoughts and returned to being the perfect host and guide. After a glass of wine, we drove downtown and headed to one of my favorite places, the Selva Grill on Main Street. I’d called and gotten us a table by the sidewalk so we could watch people stroll by. The food was superb. After dinner we walked around part of the City ending up at a bookstore. She held my arm tightly all during our walk. I bought Marilyn a local business paper and a couple of magazines she’d looked interested in. She never left my side as we browsed.

At home, I hated to call it a night and so did she. I suggested an aperitif on the patio after we’d changed for bed and she accepted. I was pleased yet again when those long legs appeared beneath the t-shirt she was using as a nightshirt. I poured our drinks and carried them outside; Marilyn followed.

I set the small goblets on the table and sat in one of the comfortable chairs around the table. Instead of sitting next to me, Marilyn came and sat in my lap. She put her arm around my neck, gave me a megawatt kiss, and said “Thank you for today. I’ve never had anyone so on my side as you are.” The next kiss was even hotter.

She cuddled into my chest. I couldn’t help but feel her almost naked body against mine and so I hardened. She had to be able to feel me. Oh well.

After a while she turned to take her drink but I stopped her. Instead, I sipped her drink and then moved to kiss her again. She put her mouth on mine and I injected the small amount of the smooth sweet liqueur I’d sipped into her mouth, along with my tongue. She moaned and hummed in happiness at the event and acceptance of the fluid and my tongue. It was a very sensual moment for both of us. We kissed again and the sparks were flying.

“Oh, please do that again,” she whispered. “Wow!”

I again took a generous sip of her Grand Marnier and we French kissed again, with me injecting the fluid into her mouth – a hot, liquid kiss. The sparks flew and the French kiss became several dozen. She was moaning and squirming in my lap too, actions that were getting me more aroused than ever.

“And again,” she repeated in a sexy whisper.

We repeated the process several more times. Marilyn pulled up her t-shirt so her breasts were exposed. She took one of my hands and placed it on her exposed left breast. I started rubbing and kneading her mounds feeling their fullness, weight, texture and soon enough their sensitivity and responsiveness to my touch. With a sense of passion, she brought her lips back to mine and gave me another soulful kiss. She then sipped my liqueur and returned the favor of being my new favorite delivery mechanism for the drink. She was a fast learner, and I accepted the liquid kiss from her. We continued in that way for many minutes.

After actively stroking her body during this time, I pushed her t-shirt up her body. She finally peeled the shirt up over her head without hesitation. I immediately moved my tongue to her nearest breast and nipple. Neither of us was disappointed with her response to my move. Her moans and excitement were evident as I roamed with my lips from her lips to her breasts and back again. She squirmed in my lap obviously aware of the effect she was having on me. I’d never had a lap dance until that moment.

At one point I sipped my liqueur and then slavered it over one breast, letting the liquid seep from my mouth onto her globe and nipple. This generated some extra excitement from her as she watched me do this. She clutched my head to her breast at the little mess I had made and groaned in a sexy and inviting way as I used my tongue to clean it up.

She was wearing a thong. After many minutes of focusing on her face, neck and breasts, I ran my hand down her flat stomach and along the edge of her thong. Her whole body vibrated with the move; a shudder went through her but I attributed it to the cool night air and my light touch. Later I was to learn that she’d had a small orgasm at that instant.

I played along the edge of her thong, and then stroked her thighs down to her knees that I could easily reach. As I petted her all over with my fingers, my tongue romanced her nipples and the curves of her breasts. She cradled my head and encouraged my every move. Occasionally we’d repeat the liqueur kisses I’d started with.

Finally, we looked at our empty glasses, Marilyn said in a low sexy voice, “There’s no excuse now, I guess. We need a new activity. How about you make love to me?”

“I can think of nothing in the world I’d rather do,” I responded quietly.

Marilyn rose and turned to me in her near nakedness. She pressed her body against mine, ground her hips into my groin, and kissed me with another deep kiss that had to be lighting up the nearby sky. I had my eyes closed but could still see the fireworks.

She started to lead me to her room, but I pulled her with me to the master suite. “Come this way. Bigger bed. More room.”

I had a moment’s hesitation about using the master bedroom. That had been the enclave for Nancy and me until she required constant care. Somehow, I was able to dismiss that concern and focus on the here and now.

Marilyn stopped as we reached the bed and removed her thong and tossed it aside onto a chair. I shed my clothing in a millisecond and we stood and rubbed out naked bodies together, relishing the skin-to-skin contact we were making. We lavished kisses over one another. Somehow, my hands were all over her. I could feel how wet she was, and that impressed me.

My cock was standing out at almost a ninety-degree angle from my body, a feat even I had a hard time believing. Marilyn captured it between her legs and lightly pumped her hips back and forth to massage my rod with the small amount of fluffy blonde hair she had left around her pussy. She was almost clean-shaven.

I pulled her to the bed and then pulled her over me. We embraced and then she rose, grasped my cock and rubbed the head against her pussy. She was moist almost to the point of dripping like a faucet onto my body. Only one swipe along her slit and I was fully lubricated.

“Oh God, I want you so,” she panted to me. “I’ve never been this wet before.”

“I think you can tell the feeling is mutual,” I whispered back as I leaned up and we kissed.

She sank her body down on mine in one slow but effective stroke. She had her head back in ecstasy as my cock penetrated her body. At the end of that stroke the head of my cock was pushed against her cervix, our pelvic bones were pushed together, and we were ready for serious lovemaking.

Marilyn came forward and rubbed her erect nipples across my chest several times. I, of course, reached up tentatively to fondle her breasts and pinch her nipples; I noted the positive effect the move had on her. I could feel her slow-moving pussy clench my cock each time I pinched her; she was moaning, “More, more. Never stop.”

We started moving in a beautiful slow synchronous rhythm with one another. I was meeting her downstrokes with upstrokes of my own. We started to generate the sound of our moist bodies slapping together – moist as her body fluids leaked more girl juice onto me that were spread by our contact and motions.

I clearly had an urgency to this union. It had been almost two years since I’d been close to a woman like this; somehow my hand was in a far inferior league to an event such as this.

Marilyn also appeared to have an urgency to merge and reach a climax. We sensed each other and increased our tempo. I was holding her hips and yanking her down onto to me, thereby maximizing the penetration I was making into her sexy body. I couldn’t recall ever being harder or longer than I was with her.

She started making little squeaking sounds of joy and passion on each stroke. They were getting closer and closer together as we now pounded into each other. I was getting sweaty and panting with the effort and pleasure that was washing over me.

I reached up and pinched both of her nipples simultaneously and hard. The effect was what I thought a taser might elicit. I could feel her vaginal muscles ripple around my cock as her orgasm erupted like a huge volcano. This was all it took for me to climax as well. We went into our love spasms simultaneously; both of us arching our backs and then moaning to announce our arrival at heaven’s door.

I knew she felt me worthy; the insecurities I had hours before about myself were groundless. She had resurrected me and justified my existence in this single wave of pleasure as I jetted my cum into her body.

Marilyn’s sweaty body fell on my chest and I clutched her to me, stroking her back and long hair. The raw passion we’d built up over the past few minutes now changed to tenderness. The rough touches and pinches were replaced with gentle strokes and smoothing of each other’s body. The frantic kisses where we’d mashed our faces together were replaced by more loving and tender soul kisses conveying the deep feeling that we had generated for each other.

We lay coupled together for many moments, hugging and kissing. I wished I could have responded again to her needs but mid-fifties guys are not known for their ability to quickly recover, particularly from an event as passionate and taxing as this episode seemed to be for me.

I pulled a sheet up over us and rolled us onto our sides. We remained coupled however, and in the dim light filtering in from the hallway we could see the smiles on each other’s faces.

I kissed her eyelids and whispered, “Sweet dreams.” Marilyn cuddled closer to me, if that was possible, and we both slipped off to dreamland.

---

I awoke about six and quietly got out of bed and dressed for my meditation at the beach. I snuck out of the house with a smile on my face.

As I sat at the beach, I enjoyed the occasional whiff of our sexual contact coming from my groin. I hadn’t washed since our lovemaking session the night before. I had forgotten what sex smelled like; it was delicious.

As I centered and cleared my head of thoughts, I again heard from within the messages to help someone else and to love unconditionally. I felt cleansed by my meditation session and hoped the serenity I felt could rub off on Marilyn who seemed to have so many demons to deal with.

I picked up coffee on the way home; glad I didn’t run into anyone while I reeked of sex. Fortunately, the coffee shop had a drive-thru, plus at the coffee shop there were other competing aromas.

Marilyn was still asleep in my bed when I got home. I stripped and slid into bed beside her, spooning up to her side as she slept on her stomach. She rolled slightly to fully spoon up against me. I slipped a hand under her and cuddled her to me, kissing her neck as I arranged myself to doze with her.

A half-hour or so later, she stirred in my arms, initially pulling my arms closer around her naked body and rubbing her bottom against my flaccid cock in a very friendly gesture. I responded to her and of course returned her hug with some kisses.

As she awoke, she turned to face me. We kissed and kissed, most tenderly. She apologized for her morning breath, but I was oblivious to any such fault. She reached down, grabbed my cock, and started to massage it back to life. I wasn’t responding as fast as I wished until she tossed the sheet off of us and slithered down my body and inhaled my rod which still hosted the scents and dried juices from our lovemaking the night before.

“Are you sure?” I offered.

She broke free from me for just a second, “Oh, yes. You taste divine. I love the taste of ‘us’ on you. I guess I can be kinky like this.” She inhaled me again. I hardened to something approaching titanium-enhanced steel.

“Can I cum in you again. I like being in your pussy,” I said quietly.

With that she again slithered up my body, her tongue working overtime as she touched on some of my muscles and my nipples. She finally made love to my neck as she maneuvered above me. I rolled her over on her back.

I rose on my arms and dragged my erect penis across the flat of her stomach. She again reached down and this time aimed my scepter at her love tunnel. I took my time working my cock into her, moving only a fraction of an inch deeper on each stroke. She and I were relishing our contact with each other and enjoying our sensuous skin-to-skin contact.

When I’d fully penetrated her, I started to piston in and out of her vagina. Her ducts were open and flooding the area with her girl juice, ensuring my deep penetration and delivery of seed deep into her body.

Marilyn’s legs flailed in the air, knees bent, then she wrapped them behind my buttocks and started to use them to pull me deeper and deeper into her hot passage as we made love. We increased our tempo. Soon, I was pounding into her body, using all my effort and energy to ready my launch of jism into her.

And then the moment came. I let out of long guttural growl of passion as I peaked and my climax began. Marilyn shrieked at the same instant beneath me and pulled me into her folds with one huge body-shaking convulsion. Her arms and legs jerked me tightly against her writhing nakedness.

Somehow, I managed to eject a bucket of cum into her pussy. I could feel shot after shot leave my body and enter hers as she held me deep and motionless. I couldn’t believe I had recovered enough overnight to generate this amount of fluid to gift to her.

I collapsed into her willing arms, my sweat-laden body molding into hers. She stroked my back and sides. I kissed her neck and shoulders from my prone position against her.

We panted and struggled to catch our breath, rolling to our sides to unburden our chests. As we panted and our aerobic workout subsided, Marilyn pulled my face to hers in a very tender embrace, “Oh you are a special, special man. Dare I admit that I’m falling for you?”

“Yes, you may and we have all weekend to do even more of this and to get to know each other better and better. I kissed all over her face and neck, and then slathered over one of her breasts as I cupped the other and rubbed the erect nipple.

After we played and cooed at each other, I told her I brought her coffee and had a breakfast available.

She said, “Do I have to dress for the occasion.”

I said in a straight and serious tone, “No, in fact the rules of the house clearly state that occupants should be nude for as much time as you can stand.”

As she went to stand, she looked horrified. “Uh oh, I’m dripping! You really filled me. Perhaps I’ll shower first.”

“Come with me,” and I led us into the master bath shower that had multiple showerheads and enough room for at least eight people. We stood beneath the water jets and kissed, smoothed and cleaned each other’s nooks and crannies.

“God, I can’t keep my hands off of you,” I sheepishly admitted as we turned the water off. “I’m sorry if I’m coming on too strong.”

“Don’t stop on my account,” she offered with a laugh and then another kiss.

We dried each other and then walked naked into the kitchen. My eyeballs were having orgasms of their own just watching her trim and sexy body walk ahead of me, her breasts and hips swaying, teasingly visible and available to touch and taste.

“You sit, I’ll serve,” I said acting like a host again.

“I thought you already did serve about twenty minutes ago,” she jested.

I produced our juice, coffee and cereals as well as some fresh Florida fruit. We ate side-by-side, frequently stoking one another and kissing between almost every bite. She couldn’t keep her hands off me either. What a nice problem to have.

Afterwards, Marilyn pulled me back to the big bed and we cuddled some more. I wanted to make love to her again, but knew I couldn’t. I had to get some Viagra or Cialis – about a thousand pills as a starter kit. Unfortunately, I’d have to wait until Monday unless I could talk my pharmacist out of some later in the day.

As we cuddled, I slid down Marilyn’s lithe body until my tongue could reach her pussy. I started to tongue the surrounding area, frequently drifting past her erect clitoris.

“Are YOU sure,” she asked quietly as she panted in her prone position.

“Never surer of anything in my life. You … no, we taste wonderful as you noted earlier.” I dove back into her pussy with great enthusiasm this time, thoroughly enjoying Marilyn’s musky scent and juices mixed with my male cum that had again started to leak from her depths.

I licked and prodded and probed with tongue and fingers, reaching up with whatever hand was free to fondle and twitch Marilyn’s nipples and breasts. She became a writhing mass of happy flesh underneath me as she reacted to my attentions.

Suddenly, her back arched and she yanked my head into her pussy full force and clamped her legs around my head. She exploded into an orgasm, perhaps the most violent of the ones we’d shared.

“Ooooooooh, ooooooooh, ooooooh, Gooooooooooood!” she kept moaning as the event washed over her. Finally, she relaxed her legs and hands and I could move my head again and not worry about being the first man to be suffocated by a warm pussy.

“Oooooh,” she went on, “you really are spoiling me. Come and kiss me.”

I tongued my way up her body, pausing at her taut breasts, and then ran my tongue up her neck to her mouth.

“Oh, God, I love the taste of Us,” she said after we’d French kissed.

“Me too,” I said and snuggled her into me and lavished more kisses on her. We snuggled for a few more minutes, and then I started to diddle her clit again. She responded with several little jerks and twitches.

She gave me a wan smile, “I’ll give you all day to stop THAT.”

She closed her eyes and rolled into the passion I was delivering. I moved my head to her breasts and roughly attacked one breast and nipple and then the other. I increasingly drove three fingers into her twat at a very rapid rate, as fast as I could make my hand go. I tried to center on where I figured her G-spot would be. Her fluids flooded the area again. Her back arched again and she held that position for well over a minute as I pistoned my hand into her and bit her tits.

Finally, her climax arrived. She grabbed my hand and held it so my fingers were deep in her but my hand couldn’t move. With her other hand she pulled my head into the breast I was sucking and tightly held me as her spasms arrived and passed over her. She made an animalistic growl from deep within that signaled her pleasure.

Gradually, she relaxed again and I cuddled her to me with kisses and hugs again. After we’d spent fifteen minutes or so in this position, Marilyn sat up and looked at me with tender doe eyes.

“I‘d love to stay here and fuck you all day long, but I’ll end up a pool of useless flesh if we keep this up. Let’s at least take a walk or do something as a breather. I have not had a lot of sexual activity the past few years, so I expect I might get a little sore, too.”

I responded, “You can come with me on some short errands and I’ll show you more of Sarasota, but this is where we’re coming back to.” I patted the bed. We showered together again and it was as equally exciting as our first venture.

We dressed in shorts and sneakers. Marilyn had on a light top again and went out of her way to show me she wasn’t wearing a bra – I got flashed by her as we headed into the garage. I pinched her lovely ass and she squealed and jumped.

I talked my pharmacist out of ten Viagra’s on our first stop. He looked at me with a smirk and commented that he could understand my desperate situation when he saw Marilyn walk by in the pharmacy and smile at me.

We went down to the bayfront and sauntered amongst the yachts and sloops parked there, marveling at the features of each one. I volunteered to bring her back to O’Leary’s Bar some night for the light rock and bohemian atmosphere the place exuded to those that walked by that part of the bay front in the evening. The place was a hangout for many of the folks that lived on their boats in the harbor so the dress was always super casual or grunge.

We had a romantic lunch outside on the veranda at Station 400 – an old train station from the 1870s that had been moved to Florida, rebuilt, and made over into a great restaurant. We flirted endlessly with one another and kept maneuvering so we always had some major parts of our bodies connected as we talked and ate. I snuck a couple of the little blue pills as we ate too.

We went back home after lunch and violated the rule about waiting an hour after you eat before engaging in physical exertion. The Viagra worked wonderfully and I was willing to write a long testimonial to the maker about my personal experience. We took a nap wrapped into each other after our sweaty climaxes.

We awoke and took a swim in the pool with our bathing suits on lest we shock my neighbors. I was all for skinny-dipping, but Marilyn was the voice of reason. Suddenly, I wanted to show her off to everyone I knew. “Look what I have and guess what we’re doing?” kind of mindset. I told Marilyn and she laughed then flattened her body against mine at the edge of the pool and raised the water temperature about thirty degrees in mere seconds.

By the time we changed back into casual clothes it was almost dinnertime. I poured us some wine and we sat on the patio holding hands and watching the winter sun fade into the western sky.

I got serious for a while and Marilyn humored me. “How serious are you about changing your identity?” I asked.

“Very,” she replied. “I haven’t thought it all through. What to do and all. I still need to see Mel frequently.”

“Did you ever think about changing your name? Doing it before you job hunt might be a good idea,” I offered. “You could become ‘Lynn’ in a breeze. What was your maiden name? Does Doug know that?”

“I’ve always liked ‘Lynn’,” she responded. “My maiden name was ‘Fowles’ and Doug knows that. If I kept it in the family my grandmother’s maiden name was ‘Greene’ with an ‘e’. I doubt he’d think that far into my history if he really cares to search for me.”

“Well, Lynn Greene, welcome to Sarasota and welcome to my home and my life. What a pleasure to have you.” I rose from my seat and went and kissed her. She kissed back.

We were seated again when I had a further thought. “Who owns the car?” I asked.

“Oh, shit,” she said. “He does.”

“Then we need to get it back to him as soon as possible. I think I know how to do that without betraying where you are. We’ll work on that on Monday too. You can drive my car when you need to until we get you a replacement.”

She nodded and squeezed my hand. She was worried I could tell. I brought the bottle out and poured us a second helping of wine. I took the edge off things by toasting her again, “To Lynn Greene, my new girlfriend?” I looked expectantly at her and how she’d react to my questioning inflection on the statement.

Lynn got up and came over to me and gave me one of her smoldering kisses and then sat in my lap for even more kisses. Eventually we just cuddled together for a while.

We ate out again, this time at Tex Senoritas – one of the Tex-Mex eating establishments I use to frequent. It was so nice to be out and about again. I realized I’d been hiding from life for over two years – ever since Nancy got the dire diagnosis about her cancer.

I kept calling Marilyn ‘Lynn’ to drive home her new name and get her used to it. Sometimes I’d throw in a ‘Miss Greene’ statement of some kind. She laughed at the whole effort sometimes, but nodded at my effort.

Afterwards, I invited Ms. Greene to accompany me down to O’Leary’s Bar. We walked down to the waterfront, got beers, sat and enjoyed the live music floating out over the water.

We went home and made warm and tender love to one another. It was electric the way our bodies melted into one another. I could get very comfortable with this whole arrangement. Hell, I was already comfortable with the whole arrangement and it was less than forty-eight hours old. In the back of my head, however, I was pessimistic that it would continue, mostly because I was so much older than Lynn.

Sunday was very much like Saturday except now I had Viagra and so we spent even more time in bed fucking and making love, depending on the mood of the moment. We were insatiable for each other. We started making love in the other rooms of the house so we could say we’d fucked in every room, including the garage and inside and on my car.

I couldn’t remember having the staying power (thank you Viagra) or the rigidity that I seemed to have that day. I had a perpetual hard-on and used it incessantly to poke into Lynn. She was not only receptive to my advances but often suggested some mildly kinky idea to try or initiated our coital coupling.

When sunset came on Sunday, we slipped nude into the pool. While Lynn floated on her back, I put her legs over my shoulders and buried my tongue deep into her well used and lubricated pussy. She blew me as I sat on the pool edge and then we traded places and we continued fucking like the rabbits we’d become that day.

The two of us slept naked and wrapped up deeply in one another. We were in love.

Chapter 2 – More Permanent Arrangements

My life had again changed dramatically on Thursday afternoon. I was still grieving over the loss of my wife to cancer and trying to pull out of a ten-month alcoholic-assisted depression up to that day, and the next I had a beautiful woman living with me and needing my help to find a job, living accommodations, friends and everything. We’d barely started towards these goals when we’d discovered the passionate and physical side of our new relationship. Moreover, I felt some very romantic stirrings deep inside. I was elated. I was also slightly panicked.

In the morning, I made my sojourn to the beach to meditate. I think I got a message that inferred I was doing all the right things with Lynn. I again picked up coffee and a Sunday paper on my way back to the house. Lynn was up when I arrived back. She was wearing a t-shirt with nothing on underneath it. When I made an advance on her, she playfully slapped my hand, “Do you know how sore I am today? Some romantic lothario fucked me most of yesterday and last evening. I’ve never had that much sex in such of short period of time.” She teased, “The playground is closed … until after dinner.”

I gave a huge fake sigh of disappointment; however, I was glad for the opportunity to recharge my own batteries during the day. I recalled with great pleasure, we’d pretty much done nothing but suck and fuck all day long the day before.

We both went through the Help Wanted Ads in the local paper, but there were few leads there for anything that Lynn would have been interested in.

I broke out my telephone list and started to make calls asking if any of my friends had contacts at any of the top companies on our list. I hit pay dirt on the fourth call. George Bunsen, a friend I’d known for years, turned out to be retired but on the Board of Emptive Aerospace – a medium-sized company that made aircraft and spacecraft communications equipment. They were headquartered in Sarasota by the airport but had manufacturing plants and repair facilities scattered all over the east coast and outside of Los Angeles.

George was polite enough to listen to my well-thought-out description of Lynn, her skills, and her personal situation. At the end of my two-minute spiel, George said, “Have her come by my house tomorrow morning, say at ten o’clock. I’ll screen her. If I like her, I’ll get her in for some meetings later in the week.”

I was ecstatic. Lynn was instantly nervous. I told her about my background and history with George and his wife Carla. They were nice people, and I was sure he’d give her more than the benefit of the doubt.

We kept making phone calls through lunch but I stopped around the “P’s” on my contact list. Lynn was cold-calling company HR departments and asking about whether they had any openings in her skill areas.

With Lynn’s blessing I also called my lawyer and explained about Lynn’s situation and her wish for a name change, divorce and restraining order. He told me to take a picture of her bruises before they faded any further. I did. He also validated my own thinking about the car she’d driven to Florida, and that was to get it back to her husband as soon as possible without revealing where she was geographically. He said to get rid of any other personal property that was clearly owned by her husband. He suggested getting rid of the cell phone, too. We set an appointment for Wednesday morning for a face-to-face meeting.

I made some calls regarding getting her car taken north. The last one was to a chapter of my old college fraternity up at the University of Florida in Gainesville. The young man that answered the house phone listened carefully to our needs and said he thought he knew just the person. He’d have him call me back later today.

An hour later the phone rang and a youthful male voice introduced himself as Don Urquart. As we talked, I learned he was a junior at the college and that he had a girlfriend at the University of Cincinnati. He was trying to figure out how he could see her more often than having to wait until Spring Break.

I e