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Message-ID: <29323asstr$984251404@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "The Star" <extar@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} RP, REV, "Miriam" (MF, intergen, cons, rom, viol)
Date: Sat, 10 Mar 2001 14:10:04 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d



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<1st attachment, "Miriam (MF, intergen, cons, rom, viol).txt" begin>

Miriam
By The Star

(c) 1998, 2001 EXTAR International, Ltd.  All rights reserved.  Single 
copies for personal, non-commercial use may be downloaded or printed.  Any 
other uses including posting on an archive site or reposting to a newsgroup 
must have prior permission from EXTAR International.   <extar@hotmail.com>




Miriam
A tale of romance by The Star


_Lonely._

I couldn't believe how lonely I was.  How alone I felt.
The only other time I'd felt that way, I let it lead me into the biggest 
mistake of my life--my first wife!  So I set my jaw, wrestled my need for 
people to a draw, and continued on.

I must confess, my heart wasn't in it.  After all, what's the use in pulling 
off a big business deal, or being chairman of a committee for a successful 
community event, if there's no one to share the victory?

Surrounded by natural beauty, I couldn't enjoy it, alone.

And the nights . . .  The nights were the worst!  More than once, I finally 
fell into an alcoholic stupor, unable to find rest any other way.  My pain 
was real and enormous.  For my wife--the love of my life--had left me.


One moment she was there, my Brenda, a warm fire at whose hearth I warmed my 
spirit.  The next, she was gone. A little vessel in her brain couldn't 
handle its designed pressure, and killed her.

My anger and despair were enormous.  My grief endless.
My loneliness was a bottomless chasm that I didn't know how to bridge.


I continued to work, but my heart wasn't in it.

My daughter stepped up and did what she could for me.  Her reward was that I 
treated her like dirt.  Bless her!  She still drove the three hours each way 
to come see me every week and later, every month.  Her husband--a very nice 
guy, really--wasn't thrilled about being left with the kids so much, but he 
understood.  Kris had always been close to me and could feel my hurt.  She 
said she had to do whatever she could to help.

Three years after my wife's death, I was finally able to come to terms with 
it.  Kris saw the changes in me and started hinting, strongly, that I needed 
to get back into life.  By that, she meant I needed to start dating and find 
some female companionship besides her.  I just didn't know how somebody my 
age went about it.  It had been an awfully long time....

"But Kris, there aren't any women around here as good looking as you.  Why 
would I settle for less?" I teased her.

"I know I'm the most gorgeous creature in this part of the state," she 
teased back, though her words were true, "but Mike is getting a bit 
concerned about you and about the amount of time I'm taking away from him 
and the boys."

Actually, I was more healed than I thought.  Unconsciously, I'd been 
checking out the 'available' ladies in our town--and wasn't impressed with 
the crop.

While we had an unusually high percentage of beautiful women for a small 
town, the good ones were all married...or had something seriously wrong with 
them, like a drug problem, or room temperature I.Q.  The most interesting 
single women in town were college girls--WAY too young for me.

In our banter, my bright daughter brought me to a process I should have 
considered long before, if I'd been conscious of the need.  Basically, after 
hearing my litany of what was wrong with the available women in town, she 
asked me what I wanted in a woman.  And by teasing and refusing to leave it 
alone until I'd thought it through, she led me through the initial stages of 
solving any problem: Define the problem and identify solutions.

She made me list, over a period of a few months, all the characteristics I 
felt were necessary in a woman I could be interested in.  The end result was 
fascinating.  This 'Dream Woman' had to have these traits and 
characteristics:


* While it wasn't necessary for her to be as drop dead gorgeous as Kris, she 
had to be substantially above average to look at.
* She should have superior intelligence.
* She had to have class and be a lady.
* It would be nice if she had some talent, some areas of expertise.
* She had to be fun to be around, witty, energetic, a leader; yet not 
'pushy.'
* She could not be 'whiny.'
* She needed to be a woman of integrity.
* Yet she had to be free of prudish hangups.
* She had to be capable of loving deeply and forever.
* She had to be committed to an exclusive relationship.


By the time we'd gotten this far, Kris was impressed that I knew what I 
needed so well.  "Well, Honey, your mom was a disaster, as you know.  And 
Brenda was the love of my life.  You're all I have left.  Although you're my 
ideal woman in most ways--surely you're beautiful enough--we'd never make it 
as a couple, even if you weren't my daughter and already happily married... 
We'd be at each other's throats most of the time.

"I really love you.  And I really appreciate the time you've given me.  Even 
when I've been a total crab, I've enjoyed having you around.  I love you 
more than anything.  Thanks, Honey!"

"Thanks, Dad," Kris replied with tears in her eyes.  "I love you too and 
wish I could do more for you.  Being with you like this is good for me, 
because I'm able to repay a bit of the love and care you've given me all my 
life.  But you need more.  You need your own woman, as I've said from time 
to time."

"Yes, Kris," I said in a resigned tone.  She had indeed said this before.  
"But how is a fifty-something guy like me going to find a superwoman like 
we've described? If such a woman exists in this town, she's been married for 
years.  Or she's way too young and would only cause more problems."

"Have you looked around at church, Dad?" Kris asked.

"Yes.  I have.  We have some remarkably attractive ladies--all married.  And 
some knockout high school and college girls, who are too young to even think 
about.  The only single ladies otherwise are either too militant feminist 
for consideration or are widows older than I am...

"That's pretty much true of the whole town.  There are some knockout ladies, 
but they're disqualified on other counts--age or marital status"
"Don't give up, Dad.  Now that we know what we need to do, we can start 
working on how to get from here to there.

"And Dad...remember what you taught me?  Don't forget to pray!"


The truth is, I didn't seriously consider finding another women at that 
point.  I could live with the loneliness.  And the things I'd said about a 
shortage of suitable ladies in our town were all true.  If one came along, 
wonderful.  If not, I'd survive.


					2


Kris, of course, had other ideas.  If it weren't for Mike, I think she'd 
have moved in with me--including into my bed--just to ease my pain and 
loneliness.  She knows I consider her to be the ideal girl, in terms of 
basic package.  And we love each other a lot.

But what she really had in mind all along, was her college roommate and best 
friend, Miriam.

She and Miriam had gone through a similar exercise.  Miriam had endured a 
brief but disastrous marriage with an ex-military guy she'd met after she 
graduated from college.  When she finally kicked the bum out, she'd gone to 
Kris for a shoulder to cry on.  At one point in her grieving and healing 
process, Miriam had cried, "All I want is to be married to a good man who 
will love me!  Why is that too much to ask?"

 From that point, Kris led her through the process, like she had me later, of 
listing just what she wanted in a man and what she couldn't tolerate.

Much later, Kris told me that the profile of Miriam's ideal man fit me like 
a $3,000 suit.  So Kris, being Kris, decided to see what she could do as a 
matchmaker with her dad and her best friend--is that kinky or what?  I 
think, for Kris, it was the game as much as the idea of helping two people 
she was so very close to.


Over the next few months, when Kris talked me into visiting them, Miriam 
usually dropped by sometime during my visit.  And twice, Kris brought her 
along when she visited me.  I treated her like another daughter and 
respected her as Kris' closest friend, after Mike.


Kris and I had both gone to Pac-10 schools.  I was disappointed when she 
chose not to follow me to Stanford, and attended Washington instead.  She 
had a great time in college, though, and completed her degree successfully, 
so I can't complain.  And of course, we've had some fun over the years about 
the relative merits of our schools' football programs.  She's had more fun 
than I, <darn> but it has been interesting.

So when Stanford was playing in Seattle, she insisted that I join them for 
the game.  Playing the role, I wore my letter jacket.  (Yes, I can get into 
the letter jacket...  Just don't ask me to button it.)  When she and Mike 
swung by to pick me up, I was surprised to see Miriam in the coach; but it 
wasn't a big deal as, of course, she went to Washington too.

Our plan was to drive to Seattle on Friday, stay overnight, see the game 
Saturday, then stay over another night and come home on Sunday.  Mike had a 
nice motorhome that we planned to use as our motel on wheels.  The addition 
of Miriam complicated arrangements, but didn't throw a stick in the spokes.  
Kris just said we'd make up the dinette into a bed for Miriam, I'd sleep in 
the bunk over the cockpit and they would have their 'room' in the back.


On the trip north, Miriam and I got better acquainted.  I knew her as Kris' 
friend.  But I began to appreciate why she was her best friend.  While her 
face wasn't that of a fashion model, she was more than just attractive.  It 
kind of grows on you until the realization strikes that she isn't 
pretty--she's beautiful!  Her slender but spectacular figure was set off by 
full, flowing dark brown hair that moved saucily with her like a fringe.

She had an established career marketing music and musical instruments for a 
national company: She had outside sales for the Pacific Northwest and did 
quite well with it.  Of course, she was an accomplished musician.

And I soon found that she was still as wacky and witty as she'd been in 
college, though in a slightly more mature way.

I found myself drawn to this elfin girl and was, without being aware of it, 
doing and saying anything I could think of to keep her attention.  (Kris and 
Mike were sitting up front, smirking as they saw their plan starting to 
work.)
We made our way to the campground just as dusk fell.  While Mike and I were 
outside, hooking up the water, power and sewer, and leveling the rig, the 
girls started dinner.

When we were done with the 'man's work', we each popped a beer and settled 
into chairs to watch the ladies work.

After our meal, I was ready to crash, but the others wanted to visit a 
nightspot across the road from the campground.  Letting myself be persuaded 
to go 'just for an hour or so', I went along.

The place, I found, wasn't just a saloon, but had a band and good-sized 
dance floor.  It was also cleaner and more pleasant than I expected from its 
exterior.  Right after we got a table and ordered a round of drinks, Mike 
and Kris hit the floor.  Miriam waited until the next song, then when she 
saw that I wasn't going to ask her, asked me if I would dance with her.

"Miriam," I said with a look of panic, "I don't know how to dance like this! 
  If they do any slow dancing, I'd be delighted."

"Nonsense!" she snorted.  "Any idiot can do this.  You just get out there 
and move to the music.  You don't even have to have a partner."

"But," I rejoined, "I always thought the idea was to get your hands on each 
other, without getting slapped."

"That's what the slow dances are for," she giggled.  Grabbing my hand, she 
yanked me to my feet and propelled me to the floor.

I just kind of shuffled and undulated to the beat.  I was entranced.  Miriam 
on a dance floor is a spectacle.  Guys all over the room were soon watching 
her and not paying much attention to their own partners.  At the end of the 
song, Miriam just looked at my face and laughed.

"Bill, you look like you ate a bug!" she said, giggling in her enchanting 
way.
Snapping out of it, I took her hand and said, "Don't think so, but I 
wouldn't know if I had."  Which set off more giggles.

The band went into a slow dance set then and I took her into my arms.  This 
is the kind of dancing I know about.  She moved like a professional dancer 
and anticipated me perfectly.  Slender, but with marvelous breasts, Miriam 
seemed so light in my arms I almost couldn't tell she was there.  If it were 
not for the girl shape pressed against me, I'd have wondered what I was 
doing.

After a couple of minutes dancing like friends, she gave a little sigh and 
kind of relaxed against me, her mouth coming to rest below my right ear and 
the rest of her just sort of pasted onto the front of me.

Naturally, this produced an instant reaction from the primary indicator of 
my gender.  I tried to pull away from her in embarrassment, but Miriam would 
have none of it.  "Don't you dare back away!" she whispered, running a hand 
behind my head and clutching me tight.  "I'd have been checking out my 
equipment if that hadn't happened.  Please?  Hold me?"

Of course I was more than happy to, though our dancing turned to shuffling 
and swaying to the music while my body started to learn the feel of the 
marvelous shape pressed against it.

When the set ended and the band resumed hip hop, we returned to our table.  
Kris later told me we both had sappy, dreamy expressions on our faces.  A 
little more conversation, another slow dance set, and two hours had gone by. 
  We finished our drinks and left.


Getting ready for bed was 'interesting'.  On the ride north, I suggested 
that maybe I should get a motel room, but Mike wouldn't hear of it.  "This 
expensive machine is supposed to sleep six and there are only four of us.  
With a little consideration for each other, we'll be fine."

The problem was that there was no privacy curtain between my bunk, which 
just swung down, and the dinette where Miriam was to sleep.  I changed for 
bed while Miriam was changing in the tiny bathroom.  But to get to her bed, 
Miriam had no way to avoid giving me quite a nice show of her incredible 
body in a short, semi-opaque nightie.  Spectacular!


Breakfast was preceded by another great show of spectacular bodies--Kris' as 
well as Miriam's.  Kris decided not to dress for the day until after we'd 
eaten and saw no need to change out of her nightie in front of her father, 
her husband and her college roommate who had all seen her in less many 
times.  Miriam changed while Kris was cooking, but not until Mike and I both 
had an eyeful.

We all had a great time at the game--Stanford won for a change!--and of 
course, I had to remind everyone--often--who won the day's game, which 
finally led Kris to threaten to have me wear dinner rather than eat it.  We 
had rented a car to get to the game and went out to dinner, followed by a 
visit to the nightclub again.

I can get used to dancing with Miriam!


During our ride home, Miriam and I were again forced into a 'couple' by the 
configuration of Mike's coach.  As we chatted, she brought up the subject of 
her ex-husband, Carl.  It seems that although they were only together for a 
few months and have been divorced for several years, he is still obsessive 
about her.  Her social life is pretty tame and mostly limited to events with 
close friends like this weekend.  Nevertheless he has threatened her, found 
out about her infrequent dates, and sometimes even threatened the men who 
date her.

In spite of a restraining order, she has been forced to install elaborate 
security systems in her apartment and has called the police on more than one 
occasion when he's been stalking her, or at her apartment door.

When I asked why she didn't just move away, she replied, "Because I don't 
want to give him the satisfaction.  I grew up in that town and I won't let 
him run me out!"  Then, with what I was coming to see as her irrepressible 
giggle, "Besides, it is only a little hassle for me, but it's a lot of 
hassle for him.  Think: He's eating himself up over nothing!"

I can't help but admire her spunk and attitude, but the situation disturbed 
me.  This guy sounded dangerous.  Kris and her family were at risk, too.

When we talked about work, she described what she did and how she really 
enjoyed traveling around the northwest.  In fact, she would be in Portland 
most of next week, so we arranged that I would meet her on Saturday and we 
would go out.  She'd even get me a room in the Red Lion, so I wouldn't face 
a long late night drive home.  We exchanged business cards and I got her 
cell phone number, so we could tie up loose ends later.

By the time we arrived at my house, we had become friends in our own right 
and were both really looking forward to the next weekend.  As I got off the 
motorhome, Miriam gave me a little kiss and thanked me for being such good 
company.  "Believe me, the pleasure is mine!" I assured her.  Thanking Mike 
and Kris, I waved them out of sight and went into my home to see what I'd 
missed while I'd been gone.


					3


My house, which I'd built for Brenda, was a lovely home atop a ridge 
overlooking the west valley and coast range of Oregon.  Larger than we had 
really needed, we'd loved the place, since it was a good house for 
entertaining and had room for overnight guests.  The ground floor had space 
for a large office suite for me.

With Brenda's death, entertaining had come to a halt.  Other than my 
secretary and a housekeeper who came in one day a week, I seldom saw 
outsiders in my home anymore.  Besides Kris, of course.  My work was done by 
phone and FAX, and visits to customers' sites.

Friends and neighbors respected my grief and seldom came by.  I'd withdrawn 
from most of the church and civic activities I'd been in before.

So that Sunday afternoon, I entered a large, cold, empty house.  My 
loneliness hit me hard.  After checking for messages in the office, I nuked 
a TV dinner, poured a beer, and dressed for bed.  I'd watch football on the 
bedroom tube and go to sleep.

That short weekend in good company and little bit of warmth from Miriam made 
my lonely existence harder to bear than ever.


During the week, I found myself working hard to catch up all the details on 
clients' projects.  When I caught myself doing it, I realized that I was 
"clearing the deck" for the coming weekend when I'd see Miriam again.  I 
could hardly believe it.  I was acting like a high school kid, going on a 
date with a cheerleader, or something.  After all, we were just friends.  
She was my daughter's best friend, after all.  Come off it, Bill!

At any rate, on Thursday, Miriam called to say she was at the Hilton, 
downtown, instead of the Red Lion.  She had reserved a room for me for 
Saturday night, as we'd planned.  We agreed that I'd come on in to town when 
I finished my other chores on Saturday and call or leave a message for her 
as soon as I was checked in.

Friday, I worked myself and my secretary into the ground.  Then I mowed some 
grass, had dinner, a shower and to bed.


Saturday morning I woke rested and eager.  'Bill, you're a basket case.  
This is a girl, you idiot!  Just barely older than jail bait.  You're really 
making an ass of yourself, if you can't straighten yourself out.'
Didn't help.

Since Portland is only a couple of hours away and I didn't want to arrive 
too early, I fixed myself breakfast, cleaned up the dishes and the kitchen; 
then another shower and a shave, pack a small bag for overnight, and away I 
went.  I still got there well before lunch.  Idiot!


When I checked into the hotel, I was surprised to find that I was already 
checked in and prepaid.  By now I was starting to get a bit confused.  Then, 
in the room, I found a sheet of paper on the bed.  The note on it said,


_Welcome._
_I'm so very glad you could come._
_Please knock on the door to your left,_
_when you've put up your bags._
_Miriam._


Glancing to my left, I saw a connecting door to the room next to mine.  So I 
put my bag on the stand, my coat in the closet, and ran a comb through my 
hair.
Stepping to the door, I knocked.  Miriam opened it immediately and followed 
with a big hug.  I was really getting confused.  I couldn't tell if the 
signals I was getting were from Miriam, or my libido.  I hadn't expected 
adjoining rooms.  And I hadn't expected Miriam to even be around until 
sometime in the late afternoon.  Instead, she seemed to have plotted in 
advance to have me next to her and was awaiting my arrival, whenever that 
might be.

Why?

I mean, I was flattered, but this girl is almost 25 years younger than I am. 
  I'm not a business associate or potential customer.  Why so much attention 
for a simple evening out with a friend?

Meanwhile, she was saying, "I'm so glad you came early.  I hoped you would.  
Do you have anything you have to do today?  Or can we spend the day 
together?"

With a bemused look on my face--and I guess in my voice, I said, "Oh, I'm at 
your disposal today.  I didn't expect to see you until late afternoon, but 
if you're free, of course I'd like to spend the day with you."

And what man wouldn't?  While she wasn't dressed in 'business clothes,' she 
wasn't into the 'college girl' look of the prior weekend, either.  Rather, 
she was a classy lady--relaxed and informal--but classy.

After a moment when we each just looked at the other and decided we were 
content to be together, we simultaneously asked, "What would you like to 
do?", then burst into laughter.  Or that delightful giggle, in Miriam's 
case.

Miriam truly didn't have any preferences.  So I said I'd like to look at 
boats--or yachts.  Brenda hated the water, so we never had a boat.  I wasn't 
sure I really wanted one, but thought it might be fun to look.  Miriam 
enjoyed water--swimming and water skiing--and thought looking at boats would 
be fun.  So we did.  Since it was a lovely Saturday in the fall, a lot of 
boat people were out on the water.  They are an interesting lot.  We chatted 
non-stop about boats and 'land yachts', as I call the bigger motorhomes.  
About her business and mine.  About what she enjoys and what I like...

For the evening, I'd made a reservation at one of my favorite restaurants.  
It's gone now, but it had an unusual atmosphere and great food.  The owner 
was the son of one of my college classmates, so I was always treated well 
there.  This night was no exception.  The food was great, the conversation 
sparkled, and the company was outstanding.  I hadn't had so much fun in 
years.

When we left, I asked Miriam what she wanted to do next.  She wanted to 
dance, so we made our way to her favorite nightclub.  The place was packed, 
but she knew the maitre-d and got us a tiny table near the dance floor.

Once again, I found myself attempting modern dancing with Miriam.  I think I 
was the oldest guy in the place, but I was having fun.  Watching Miriam 
dance is always fun.  Being her partner is even more fun.  She looked at me 
with a mock-concerned expression.  "Poor baby.  All of this bouncing must be 
hard on you.  Cheer up.  They play slow dances here, too."

I wasn't unhappy, but that made me more cheerful.  Sure enough, the next set 
was slow, and I once again held this marvelous woman in my arms.

This time, she just came right up against me, with both arms around my neck, 
leaving me to put both arms around her.  WOW!!!  I was the envy of every guy 
in the joint.  In the back of my head a tiny voice was saying, 'Why me? Why 
is she doing this?' But the rest of me was just enjoying the moment.

When the first song in the set ended, I turned to look at her face and found 
her eyes about two inches from mine.  What else could I do? I kissed 
her--softly, gently, without passion but with more than 
friendship--discovery, maybe? When the music resumed, her mouth returned to 
its place below my ear and her body was even more relaxed against mine.


We danced and talked for another couple of hours.  When we'd both had enough 
of the club, we returned, happy, to the Hilton.  Going up in the elevator, 
Miriam said, "I'm having such a good time, I really don't want this to end.  
Would you join me for a nightcap?"

"Sure," I answered.  "Do you want to go to the bar?"

"No.  I have a bottle in my room.  Give me five minutes, then knock on the 
door?"

Things were moving awfully fast and I didn't know just what she was 
offering.  So I decided to take it as it came.  This was not a passive 
thing.  I really enjoyed this woman and wanted very much to develop a 
relationship with her.  She was, after all, Kris' best and closest friend, 
which, in itself, was as high a recommendation as anyone could have.  She 
wasn't playing games with me.  I could be sure of that.  And I could be sure 
that I wouldn't play games with her--for Kris' sake as well as hers.  So I'd 
give positive responses to any signals and hope for the best.

I spent the five minutes washing my face, hanging up my jacket and tie, and 
changing shoes for loafers.  About the time I figured five minutes were up, 
there was a knock on the door.  When I opened it, Miriam gave me a big grin 
and giggled that she didn't want me to be late.  As if a minute mattered.

She'd shed the really cute cocktail dress she'd been wearing, let her hair 
down and was in a nice dressing gown.  Opaque, but definitely not street 
wear.

Seating me on the sofa in her room, she said, "I'm having white wine.  But 
there's whisky if you'd prefer?"

"Wine will be great." It was just an excuse to spend more time with her 
anyway, and I didn't want to get blasted.

Giving me a glass, she put hers on the coffee table and sat beside me.  I 
could see she had shed her nylons, too.  Is this a seduction, or is she just 
that comfortable with me?

As if reading my mind, Miriam snuggled up to me, causing my arm to go around 
her reflexively.  Looking me in the eyes, she said, "Bill, I know I'm coming 
on to you pretty strong.  I like you a lot.  And I think this may turn into 
a serious relationship.  - What a crappy term: 'serious relationship.' This 
is already serious! - I'm very attracted to you.  So at this point, the 
choice is yours.  We can drink our wine and chat a bit before you go back 
through that door to sleep.  Or you can kiss me and we'll see where it goes 
from there."

Running through my mind at warpspeed was the thought that the constraints on 
her because of her relationship with Kris were equally valid on me.  She was 
my only child's best friend.  And that not only made her a lot younger than 
I am, but if I messed it up too bad, I might mess up my relationship with 
Kris, too.
I'm not into casual sex.  She needed to know that, because if she just 
wanted to get laid, I was not her guy.

"Miriam, I'm impressed and immensely flattered.  You need to know something 
though:  I'm not interested in a one-night stand.  If we start something, I 
will want it to continue.  And I have trouble picturing you being really 
interested in an on-going thing with a guy as old as I am... So where does 
that leave us?" I asked.

Her reply, breathed into my mouth was, "Right where I hoped.  Here.  In each 
other's arms."  And my mouth was attacked with the most passionate kiss I'd 
experienced in a long time.  Too long.  'Kris is right,' my little 
hind-brain said.  'You've been needing this.' Then it all shut down as I 
concentrated on making love to this dream creature in my arms.

While my arms tightened around her, pulling her upper body to me, our 
tongues dueled as our kiss became more demanding.  Breaking off, I began to 
kiss her eyes, nose, forehead, while her hands caressed my ears and ran 
through my hair.  My hands were shaping the back of her body, tracing the 
marvelous curves from shoulder to waist to hip.  Little whimpering sounds 
came from her just before she kissed me again, hard, almost savagely.

Pulling back slightly, she attacked the buttons on my shirt in a controlled 
frenzy.  "Bill.  Oh Bill!  How I want you!" she panted.  "I've wanted you 
for weeks."  My shirt came undone, and was ripped from my waistband.  As the 
T-shirt was pulled up, she continued, in a low, rapid voice, "I talked Kris 
into bringing me along last weekend, so we could be together.  And the 
motorhome was my idea, too."  My shirt was gone over my head and tossed into 
a corner.  Now she was working on my belt.  "Kris mentioned a few months ago 
that the only man she knew who met my criteria was you--but you were too 
old!"  The belt was gone and the button about to surrender.  "I decided you 
weren't too old as far as I was concerned!"  The fly was down, and she was 
tugging hard to get pants and shorts off of me.  "Are you too old for me?" 
she asked.

"I devoutly hope not," I answered, holding her slightly away from me by 
putting my hands on her shoulders and pushing gently.  "If we're going to do 
this, let's do it in comfort and style.  There's a nice big bed, right 
there, instead of this cramped couch.  And I'm anxious to unwrap you, too.  
Shall we?" I stood, and my trousers promptly fell around my ankles and were 
kicked off, with the loafers.

When I gave her my hand, she rose gracefully, allowing her wrap to fall 
open.  (I don't remember how it came undone or who did it.) Underneath was 
just Miriam.  With a groan, I took her in my arms again, my hands around her 
waist under the gown, her arms around my neck.  We kissed again with growing 
passion as I reveled in the sensation of her skin against mine.

Breaking away, she let the gown fall from her arms, then pulled the covers 
off the bed.  With her elfin giggle, she plopped onto it, held out her arms 
and said, "Join me?"

I paused only a second, while my brain registered with joy the sight before 
me.  This girl was an incredible picture.  Slender and molded, sleek, not 
voluptuous--except her breasts which are large, firm mounds of delight 
rising from her chest even when she's on her back.  Her skin is slightly 
tanned, smooth as a baby's, with a perfectly clear complexion.  Her body 
would not disgrace any men's magazine centerfold.  And her face displayed 
character and the real beauty I was just coming to appreciate.  A beautiful, 
classy package, indeed!

As I scrambled beside her, into her embrace, I thought of my own appearance. 
  My 'body image' is of a slender young man with broad shoulders, but a 
distance runner's physique, lanky, not muscular.  Unfortunately, the mirror 
told me I was a good 20 pounds heavier than that, mostly in belly and butt.  
The hair on my head is thinner and grayer, with the gray even invading the 
hair on my chest.  'What does this marvelous woman see in me?' that 
hind-brain gibbered.

Then I had no time to worry about it.  Miriam seemed to devour me! It was as 
if she needed to kiss, touch, caress everything at once, almost in a frenzy. 
  My shorts were torn off, and the equipment examined, handled, kissed, 
before her tour of my body took her briefly down my legs and back up my 
chest to my face again, where she kissed me frantically.

She gave me little tugs and pushes, whimpering in her need, as I moved above 
her.  This was not going to be any artistic, protracted, gentle lovemaking.  
This was NEED and HUNGER for both of us.  She steered the equipment to the 
right place, as women always do.

Just before I entered her, I looked into her eyes.

And saw welcome.


I found myself enveloped in a warm, moist grasp, so sensuous I gasped in 
pleasure.  Echoing her.

Miriam embraced me with her legs up around my waist, pulling me in as deeply 
as she could, her arms around my shoulders, crushing those marvelous breasts 
into two firm pillows beneath my chest.  Kissing my face, neck, chin, ears 
with fast kisses, still in her frenzy, she started shaking and went into 
orgasmic convulsions.

Gasping, "Kiss me!" her mouth latched onto mine and I kissed her deeply 
while her spasms continued.  Unable to hold out against such passion, I felt 
my own release start.  As I stiffened and pumped into her, she screamed out 
her joy and climax.


When I recovered my breath, I tried to pull away, to take my weight off of 
her.  She wouldn't have it.  With a little whimper, she held me to her.  
Then after a few minutes, wrapped her legs around mine to keep us joined and 
rolled to the side.  Miraculously, I was still half-erect and able to remain 
in her.  (That's not often the case.  Oh, for the stamina of youth!)

After kissing me thoroughly, but without the urgency of a few moments ago, 
Miriam grinned at me and said, "Bill, that was not just good, it was better 
than I had even dreamed! I hope you're staying healthy, because I'm going to 
keep you busy trying to top that."

I smiled back and said, "Girl, you're pretty fantastic yourself.  I'm really 
glad you were on a hair-trigger, 'cause I'd been without so long, I couldn't 
have held out any longer."

"I'd expected that, Bill.  I thought we'd have to wait until the second time 
for it to be any good.  Boy was I surprised! And delighted!" she said with a 
couple more kisses.

"Miriam, we both, obviously, needed this.  And I'm not at all concerned that 
'we shouldn't be doing this.'  We're adults, and neither of us sleep around. 
  What I'm leading up to is: Why me?  You're young, beautiful and could have 
most any man you want.  Why an old, broken-down guy like me, old enough to 
be your dad?  NOT complaining, mind you!  But I really would like to know."

With that enchanting giggle, she replied, "I probably shouldn't tell you 
this--at least not so soon.  You know that exercise Kris made you do?  Where 
she made you list all the traits you wanted in a woman?"  I nodded.  "Well, 
she showed it to me, with a comment that it's too bad I wasn't older, since 
it seemed you wanted me; except that I'm too young for you."  I nodded 
again, understanding.
"Then a week later, she kind of dropped a comment that, except for age, you 
were the match for the list I'd made, after similar prodding and coercion 
from her.  Naturally, that got me to thinking about the age issue.  I've 
always liked and admired you--as Kris' dad.  You always treated me like a 
real person, not like a kid.  Finally I thought, 'What the heck, he's an 
interesting guy, anyway.  Let's get acquainted, and see.'  So I took every 
opportunity so see you and demanded that Kris take me along to Seattle.

"When I forgot about age and just interacted with you as an adult, I found 
that you were the most interesting--no, exciting--guy I've met in a long 
time.  Had you been closer to my age, I'd have jumped you weeks ago.  I just 
had to get my head straight.  Are you uncomfortable about that?"

"No, Miriam, not at all.  I'm flattered, and awed.  I guess I was afraid 
that this was a 'mercy fuck', or something.  Though it was fantastic, I 
really don't want that.  So I'm happy."

This time, I kissed her and smiled at her lovely face.  "So where do we go 
from here?" I asked.  "May I court you?  Could you be interested in anything 
more than an older friend who's good in bed?"

Her reply was without hesitation.  "Of course, silly.  I'd be hurt if you 
didn't.  I'm looking forward to spending a LOT of time with you.  In bed and 
out.  I'll find out everything you like and do it for you.  I'll find out 
what you don't like and keep it away from you.  I'll see you living again!"

With that, I tightened my arms, pulling her against me for a long kiss of 
exploration and commitment.  After a moment, the kiss turned passionate and 
Miriam rolled on top of me.  Still joined, she tightened her vaginal muscles 
around me, resulting in immediate readiness.

This time, we were able to take our time and taste each other.  The frenzy 
was over; we enjoyed being mated and discovering the secrets of the other's 
body.  We kissed and stroked and petted and loved.  Finally unable to 
restrain our arousal, the pace quickened and we were again able to bring 
each other to the ecstatic release we craved.


I awoke to the smell of fresh coffee and the sound of the shower.  And I 
heard the clear sweet soprano of Miriam singing in the shower--a song of 
love and joy.

In a moment the water stopped and she stepped into the room, 
unselfconsciously naked, toweling her hair.  Seeing my eyes on her, she 
smiled, dropped the towel and rushed to pour me a cup of coffee.

"Good morning, darling," she said, as she handed me the cup.

"Who told you I need coffee first thing in the morning?" I growled, but with 
a smile at the corner of my mouth.

"Nobody.  I just paid attention in the motorhome.  I saw that you were a 
complete bear until Kris gave you coffee.  Then you became a pussycat.  
Women notice those things.  Especially when they intend to pamper someone."

"Oh?  And who are you pampering today?" I grinned.

With a mock scowl, but unable to keep the corners of her mouth from 
twitching, Miriam replied, "Men!  Don't have a clue!  Today I'm the one who 
gets pampered."

"Hmmm," I teased.  "I thought women got pampered on their birthdays, 
Mother's Day, things like that.  The rest of the time, their function is to 
pamper their men."

"Shows all you know, you old fossil," she retorted with a big grin and a 
finger in my kidneys.  "I happen to be a modern woman.  We can be pampered 
any time at all... doesn't hurt us a bit."

"Kids these days!" I muttered, still teasing.  "Think they know it all.  
Surest way to spoil a woman is to give her attention.  Pamper one more than 
a day or two a year and first thing you know, they're following you around, 
jumping into your bed at night when you need your rest, fixing your favorite 
dinners and all kinds of stuff."

With that, Miriam whacked me on the shoulder, then gave me a big kiss.  
"Yeah!  Ain't it great?" she said.

Before she could climb back in bed with me, I jumped out to take care of 
severe bladder pressure.  Heading for my own room, I said, "I'll be back as 
soon as I clean up a bit."

Miriam stopped me with, "Darling, I moved your things into this bathroom."

With a Cheshire cat grin she added, "and your bag is on the stand, there."  
Her face changed to an exaggerated pout.  "I wanted you here, so you 
couldn't get away."

I just looked at her in amazement.  "How long have you been up?" I asked.

"Well, I was too excited to sleep much.  I snuggled for awhile, then got up 
and moved you in.  Then I cuddled some more.  It was soooo delicious!  
Finally I napped a bit and got up for good about an hour ago.  Go shave and 
shower.  I'll be here," she waved me to the bathroom.

Taking care of my immediate problem and then brushing my teeth, I decided 
I'd shave in the shower.  I hadn't done that for awhile, normally using my 
electric razor.  But a fresh blade shave is so much nicer for a woman .  .  
.

Just as I was finishing the shave, I was joined in the shower by a wood 
nymph.  Or a sprite, or elf or some other supernatural female.  How else 
explain that sleek figure with the voluptuous yet firm breasts?  How else 
describe the flowing hair, black with the water, the dainty ears, the 
slightly tilted eyes?  How else account for the unearthly eroticism of her 
body as she took the shampoo and proceeded to wash my hair, then with soap 
and cloth, the rest of my middle-aged body.

When I tried to caress or fondle her, she gently took my hands away and told 
me to be patient.

After I was bathed to her satisfaction, we dried each other with the large 
towels the hotel provides and put on the terry bathrobes I found hanging in 
the room.  Emerging, I discovered a large room-service breakfast set out on 
the table.

I'd expected to sample some other delights in bed, then go out to breakfast. 
  Miriam had other ideas.  "Sit.  Eat," she said.  "I have a feeling you 
need to build up your energy after such marvelous exertion last night."

"Dear girl, you amaze me," I said, sitting.  "I came here expecting a 
pleasant evening with a young friend.  And I've found instead an enchanted 
lover who surprises and amazes me at every turn.  I'm afraid I'll wake up.  
This is too wonderful a dream to end."

Sitting by me at the table, Miriam smiled and said, "Who says it has to 
end?"
Really surprised, I answered, "How can it not?  We both have to get back to 
work bright and early in the morning.  You travel most of the time.  I 
travel some, but am really tied to my phone and FAX.  We live three hours 
apart.  How can it not end when I go home today?"

"Well, darling," she said, "why do you have to go home today?  Can't you 
wait until tomorrow morning?  So we could share another night?"

"Sure--I suppose..." I agreed.

"And as soon as I finish this trip, would you be offended if I asked to be a 
houseguest?"

I paused a moment to think through what I was hearing.  My hesitation didn't 
go unnoticed and Miriam thought I wasn't thrilled with the prospect.  Seeing 
her face change from its innocent enthusiasm to concern, I quickly said, 
"Oh, I'd love to have you.  I'm just trying to visualize where this is all 
going."

With that, she propelled herself onto my lap and kissed me quite soundly.  
Then she got up and required me to eat my breakfast, saying with a sly grin 
I was going to need my strength.


As we ate, Miriam asked what I'd like to do that day.  When my eyes 
involuntarily flicked to the bed, she grinned, "Besides that?"  Answering 
her own question, "I'd kind of like to go to church and do a little shopping 
this afternoon.  Would you mind?"

"Church is a great idea.  But what are you shopping for?" I asked, warily.

The sly grin was back.  "I need some country clothes, if I'm going to be 
your guest.  Other than clothes for work, everything I have is either 
evening wear, or suitable for my apartment.  I don't have anything I could 
wear at your place.  No jeans, for example.  Or proper shoes."

To change the subject from shopping, I suggested, "We'd best move out if 
we're going to church."

So we quickly got ready, took a spin around 'my' room to ensure nothing was 
left there, checked out of 'my' room at the desk, and headed for a church 
about a mile away.  Miriam was dressed in a suit, complete with hat and 
gloves.  A remarkably classy package.  I was proud to be with her!

The service was well presented and the sermon excellent.  The people were 
very friendly--we received three invitations to lunch.  If we hadn't just 
had a big breakfast, we'd have accepted one.

On the way back to the Hilton, I suggested that Miriam would do better 
getting country clothing at the farm co-op in my town, rather than paying 
big city prices.  Obviously, a mere man like me doesn't understand anything. 
  She loves to shop.  And she was testing to see how much of it I would 
tolerate.

Seeing my expression, she decided not to press her luck.  She said, "Why 
don't we check with the concierge?  Perhaps we could take an afternoon river 
cruise?"  There was one available on a sternwheeler, so we did it.  Very 
peaceful and relaxing, to cruise the river and see the city from the water.  
We pointed out favorite sights, chatted, held hands and worked on the 
delightful bonding process.

When the afternoon trip was over, I asked where she would prefer to have 
dinner.  "How about pizza in bed?" she asked with a big grin.

"Best offer I've had all day!" I agreed.

Returning to the hotel, I called room service while Miriam was doing some 
cleaning up in the bathroom.  Yes, they'd be happy to make us a pizza.  What 
did we want on it? Miriam just wanted three cheeses, while I wanted sausage, 
mushroom, olive, pepperoni and extra jack cheese.  With our order, I asked 
for a chilled bottle of cabernet sauvignon.

Assured it was not problem and that the pizza would be ready within a half 
hour, I turned on CNN, watching with half my attention while I considered 
the events of the past two weekends and wondered where I would be going from 
here.
Although I had initiated our 'date' for this weekend, I was becoming aware 
that I had done it because Kris and Miriam had conspired to put me in a 
position where I would want to.  And I had been pretty much a passive 
participant this weekend, in the sense of accepting Miriam's plans.  I 
needed to decide for myself what I wanted.  What would be my 'best case' 
result?  How could I get from here to there?  I made myself a note to work 
on it as if it were a problem for one of my clients.  I'd start on my own 
case on Monday.

Miriam came out of the bathroom scrubbed clean and with her hair back in a 
kind of ponytail.  She was wearing the hotel bathrobe and, I suspected, 
nothing else.  My, she was beautiful!

Giving me a little smile, she said, "Aren't you uncomfortable in all those 
clothes? Why don't you freshen up and get into a robe, too?"

Grinning I replied, "The room service waiter will be here with our pizza in 
about fifteen minutes.  I wouldn't want to shock him by making him think we 
were doing lewd things in this room.  Besides, I need someplace for my 
billfold.  I'll change after dinner."

I'd pay for that.

Miriam decided to spend the time until the food was delivered in my lap.  In 
theory, she was watching the news with me.  Actually, she was seeing how 
turned on she could get me and if she could get me undressed before our 
dinner arrived.

She was indeed covered by the robe and skin.  She made sure that, when she 
sat on me, she was not sitting on robe.  Then she wiggled her bare bottom 
over the bulge in my trousers regularly.  Just maintaining my interest, you 
understand.
Turning to kiss me, she also made sure the robe gaped open, putting her 
marvelous breasts on display.  (The nipple against my chest felt like it was 
boring a hole through my shirt!)  Kissing me wetly, arms around my neck and 
hands in my hair, I had no place to put my free hand but on her other 
nipple.  Moving my palm over her hard nub caused a delay in her kissing, 
while she gasped, then moaned into my mouth.  "Darling, I hope you don't 
know just how much you turn me on!" she whispered, before her mouth devoured 
mine again.
Grinning inwardly--I still had clothes on, after all--I put all the passion 
I could into the kiss, while continuing to caress and pull the nipple on her 
breast.

In minutes, her hips were pumping and she started her little whimpers.  She 
needed help.  So I put an arm under her legs and stood up, then placed her 
on the edge of the bed.  Laying her back, I knelt between her legs, and 
kissed her inner thighs, quickly working my way up to her center.  When I 
licked from bottom to top, parting her lovely lips as I went, she went 
crazy!

"Ooooh, YES!  Like that!  There!  OOOHHH!!"  She bucked so hard I was afraid 
she would hurt herself against a tooth, or my chin, so I grabbed her hips, 
held on and rode it with her through her climax.

I did that OK, but her climax didn't end.  Rather, it kept building until, 
finally, she pushed me away, saying, weakly, "Oh, darling, please stop.  I 
can't take any more!"

Wow!  I'd given pleasure to a woman before, but had never seen one go into 
multi-orgasmic spasms like that!  It was a tremendous boost to my 
middle-aged ego to know that I could ring her chimes so well--and so 
thoroughly.
When she let go of my hair and collapsed on the bed, I kissed her briefly 
and went to the bathroom to wash my face.  Getting a clean washcloth, I 
moistened it with warm water, returned to her and gently cleaned her face, 
then wiped her legs and between them.  She murmured and smiled her pleasure 
at my ministrations.

I had just finished when the room service waiter knocked on the door.  What 
timing!

Giving her a hand, I helped her to her feet and steered her to the bathroom. 
  Then I opened the door and allowed the waiter to set a table for our 
dinner.  When he was gone, Miriam came prancing out into the room, full of 
energy as if rejuvenated.

And naked as the day she was born.


Going to the table, she poured two glasses of the wine, then took them to 
the bed, along with the bottle.

"Grab a couple slices for each of us and the napkins and get over here!" she 
commanded.

By the time I did that, she had a wine glass on each nightstand and was 
watching me critically.

"How are we going to make love and eat pizza in bed if you're still 
dressed?" she asked, reasonably.

"Easily remedied," I replied.  "Just give me a minute to arrange dinner a 
little more conveniently and I'll be with you." While I was talking, I moved 
the table over near the bed.  Then I shed my clothes in record time and 
jumped in with her.

Grabbing naked girl in one hand, and the wine glass in the other, I proposed 
a toast.  "Here's to us: to love, trust, caring, and faith."

Miriam responded, "God grant that we will always put each other first, after 
only Him."

We clicked our glasses together, and sipped the excellent Oregon vintage.
While we were doing this, I replayed what I had just heard.  Was Miriam 
proposing?

Putting my glass down and picking up a plate of pizza, I paused, looking 
intently at her.  She sat with her eyes shadowed by her long lashes.  I put 
the pizza back down and said, "Miriam, we seem to agree that we'll see a lot 
more of each other.  Are you looking for a permanent relationship?  What is 
it you're asking for?"

That was really clumsy.  But I had to know where she was coming from.
I guess Miriam sensed I was serious.  She looked up at me, without any trace 
of her usual mocking grin, or sly mischievousness.  "Bill.  I'm a simple 
girl, really.  I just want whatever I can get.  I love you.  I want your 
love.  Whatever you're willing to give me, I'll accept with gratitude.

"All I ask is that you don't hurt me spitefully.  If you feel we need to 
break it off, please do it cleanly and like a gentleman--which I know you 
are."
Was I surprised!? I took a moment to think about it, to be sure of my own 
feelings.  "Miriam, 'love' can be a slippery word.  What do you mean when 
you say you 'love' me.  Does that mean what we've done in bed? Or spending a 
little time together on a date? Or something more?"

"Bill, we mentioned that Kris had coerced me into listing what I want in a 
man, before she did the same to you.  And I think I told you she showed me 
your list a little while back--I see her fine Irish hand in all of this.  I 
think she and Mike are trying to get us together...  But because they love 
us and think it might work--Anyway, the most important thing I told Kris is 
that I want a man who will love me.  And I asked if that wasn't too much to 
ask from life.

"If you will just love me, that's all I'll ask of you.  I don't need more.  
In return, I offer my love, my loyalty, my body, my time--whatever you will 
take.  For as long as you want it."

Meanwhile, I still had one arm full of delightful, naked girl, while my free 
hand tried to deal with a slice of pizza.  Lots of guys would kill to take 
my place at that moment.

Finally--more than the one big bite of pizza later--Miriam turned to face me 
directly again.  "Bill, please understand that I love you.  Completely.  
Passionately.  For as long as you want me, I want to be with you."

"Can you do that?" I asked, thinking of her job and the amount of time she 
spent on the road.

"You mean Carl, my "ex"?" she asked, misunderstanding my question.

"Well, no.  I was thinking about your job.  But how much of a concern is 
your "ex"?  Carl?"

"I can manage the job.  I don't really need to spend much time 'at the shop' 
and I can make my travel schedule fit whatever you want.  Carl is a problem, 
though."

"I'm not afraid of him!" I said.

"I know you aren't.  Frankly I wish you were.  He's not sane.  He's 
completely obsessive about me.  I told you a little about him.  He's an 
ex-SEAL.  The Navy gave him a Bad Conduct Discharge after he beat a 
prostitute within an inch of her life.  Merely because she'd entertained 
another customer after she was with him.

"The restraining order just makes him careful when he watches me.  He keeps 
his distance--mostly--now.  Except when he's drunk and then all bets are 
off.  When I'm on trips, he usually doesn't worry about me.  He knows I'm 
not a slut and don't 'put out' for customers or people I meet on sales 
trips.  But when I'm home, he knows everything I do and everyone I see.  I 
suspect my apartment and phones are bugged.  I've had a service in, but he's 
better than most commercial services.

"He slapped me around pretty bad when we were married.  And threatened me, 
often.  One thing he's said, several times, is that he'll kill any man I let 
into my bed.  I believe he means it."

"So he won't accept the reality that it is over between you?" I asked.

"No.  That's what I'm saying.  He's completely obsessive--irrational--about 
this.  He just won't let it go.  One guy I just dated a couple of times--all 
he got was a good night kiss when he brought me home--got beat up pretty 
thoroughly.  The guy says he couldn't tell who assaulted him.  But he never 
called me again, either.  Of course, the police couldn't do anything."

"Miriam, I refuse to live in fear of a scumbag like that.  My life isn't 
worth it if I have to worry about his like.  I'm willing to take reasonable 
precautions.  And I thank you for letting me know what we're involved with.  
I'll think of something.  We'll be OK."

Carefully putting my pizza on the nightstand, I reached for her.  She wasn't 
quite as careful and we ended up with cheese in some interesting places.  No 
harm done.  I got to lick it off.

Our lovemaking that night was passionate, but not frantic.  Miriam's body 
seemed to flow under my hands.  And she gave as good as she got.

When we had spent our first passion and were just holding each other, 
neither of us was willing to sleep.  We turned off the TV and talked.

"Darling, can you imagine how happy you've made me?" Miriam asked.

"Sure I can.  I'm a pretty cheerful guy myself, right now.  In fact, I'm 
really amazed that a lovely young woman like you would want to live with 
someone as old and worn out as I am.  I sure hope you really know what that 
means, 'cause I don't think either of us needs any nasty surprises--or 
disappointments."

"Bill, how could you disappoint me? You've already given me much more than I 
ever expected.  And you've given me the satisfaction of watching the saddest 
eyes I've ever seen come alive." With a bashful smile, "I like the way you 
look at me, dear one.  It makes me feel warm and secure--loved and wanted."

That prompted a tender kiss, which I followed with, "But Miriam, what you 
don't realize is that my body is starting to wear out.  There are many 
physical activities I can't do any more, which were easy only a few years 
ago.  I'm taking pills every day now--and will for the rest of my life."

This surprised her and she asked why, when I seem so healthy.

"It's a matter of prevention and maintenance.  I never took pills before.  
But the doctors have convinced me that I will live a healthier, longer, more 
satisfying life if I take these pills daily.  The way it was put to me: If 
the chemicals can keep me healthy longer, by replacing what the body no 
longer produces, why not?  My response was, 'Why not, indeed!'"

"I guess I understand.  I'm surprised, is all," she said.

"There's at least one other 'surprise' you need to know about," I said.

"Sometimes I can't get it up--can't achieve or maintain an erection.  We've 
been lucky so far.  In fact, I'm a bit amazed that I've been able to do 
nearly as well in bed as I have this weekend.  The last year with Brenda I 
had to use the shots."

"Shots?!" Miriam asked, with no idea of what I was talking about.

"Yeah, shots.  There is a safe compound that is injected into the penile 
tissue, which results in erection.  I prefer to avoid them, but believe me, 
the shots are better than going without!"

"Without...?"

"Without sex."

"Oh... OH!... I can see that!" Miriam agreed.  "Any other skeletons in your 
closet?"

"There's a new drug out now, a pill--Viagra.  I'll see about it... Other 
than that, occasional insomnia.  I normally only average about six hours 
sleep a night now.  Melatonin helps, but it's not a cure.  And that's all I 
can think of, love."

"Well, good.  I'm glad you shared that with me, although I'm not concerned 
or frightened by any of it.  Now, since we're both still awake, and naked, 
here in this bed, do you suppose we can think of something really 
interesting to do?"
With a big grin, I turned to her as if I were going to kiss her.  But 
instead I latched my mouth onto one of her spectacular breasts.  This 
resulted in Miriam's head tossing back, with a gasp.  Then her hands were in 
my hair, holding my mouth to her needy breast.  While my tongue massaged one 
nipple, my palm was working its magic on the other.

Soon, she was whimpering again, so I moved my free hand from breast to 
vagina, where it stroked and petted for a bit.  This didn't last long, 
though, for she was soon thrusting herself at my hand, to increase the 
friction.  I parted her lips, stroking up and down, spreading her wetness 
over the area.  When I finally touched her button, her whimpers changed to a 
groan.  She was still holding my head tightly to a breast, so I knew she was 
enjoying that attention.
I felt she needed some penetration and inserted one, then two fingers into 
her.  Immediately, I could feel her vaginal sphincter start to clench on 
those fingers.  I guess that was what she wanted all right.  With the thumb, 
I started to gently rub her clit, and she went right over the top and kept 
climbing!  Her whimpers became screams, and her whole body vibrated, then 
convulsed as she screamed my name, over and over.

Have I mentioned I really enjoy turning this woman on?!!
After a few minutes, her eyes focused again and she saw me gazing at her.  
She looked back, then her face split into a big grin.  You know what kind.  
She dove for my crotch and swallowed me--only until it was hard again.  Then 
she pivoted around and swung a leg up and over so she could impale herself.

Every time was better than the time before.  She was so hot, so tight, I had 
to think about interest rates and internal rates of return to keep from 
blowing my load right then.  When she started to slide up and down, with her 
back arched and those marvelous breasts I'd just been chewing jutting out 
for my inspection, I was transfixed.  I didn't move.  I just lay there and 
watched and felt and enjoyed.  I won't compare making love with Miriam to 
Brenda.  Brenda is gone and Miriam was there and loved me!  She was 
marvelous!  Soon her tempo increased and she started 'milking' me with her 
sphincters.  I'd never experienced that before.  It is an incredible 
sensation.  As she sped up, she leaned towards me, her hands on the bed by 
my shoulders, her breasts abrading my chest with those hard, hard nipples.  
Then, suddenly, she went from whimper to scream and, in mid-scream, kissed 
me frantically.  Again I could feel her start to convulse.  First in the 
flat muscles of her shapely tummy, then her legs, then her entire body was 
involved.  Her mouth left mine as her head whipped around and her screams 
again echoed in the room.

With that stimulation, I just couldn't hold back any longer and shot load 
after creamy load into her greedy belly.

Falling forward again, Miriam kissed me deeply, then collapsed on top of me. 
  Still joined, with the curviest 'comforter' I've ever had, I pulled a 
blanket over her and we fell asleep.

I woke a couple of times, but each time I would have moved from under her, 
she whimpered in her sleep, so I stayed in place.  Her vaginal sphincter was 
so tight it clung to me, though I was almost limp.  The occasional twitch 
was enough to keep me partially erect most of the night, even while asleep.  
If you've never tried this, dreams are something else when you're plugged 
in!
Bladder pressure finally did me in.  I gently moved her aside and went into 
the bathroom.  Once I had emptied the tank, I looked at my watch and decided 
I needed to get up and get moving anyway.  I had a busy week ahead and 
needed to get on with it.  I faced a two-hour drive just to get home.  Not 
complaining mind you!  I brushed my teeth and started the shower when Miriam 
came into the bath.  With a big grin, I offered to share the shower with 
her.  She eyed the toilet and said she'd join me in a minute.

There was no modesty about me watching her, but watching someone pee didn't 
do anything for me when I was a kid, and it still doesn't.  Watching Miriam, 
naked, do anything, however....

I stepped into the big shower stall, and in a couple of minutes, Miriam 
joined me, with a big, sloppy, 'good morning' kiss.  We were both still 
pretty sated after the wonderful lovemaking the night before, so other than 
a little friendly groping, our play in the shower was just that-- play.  We 
were sensual, not sexual.  We shampooed each other's hair--a really cool, 
sharing experience.  She'd found her mate and was caring for him.  I 
reciprocated.
Next a quick cup of coffee, dress, pack, and I was ready to 'get outta 
there.' Miriam insisted I have breakfast with her--not that I took much 
persuading--so we did, in the coffee shop.  "When will I see you again?" I 
asked over the waffles.

"I have two more days' work here, then I'm home for a week.  Could you stand 
it if I come to your place tomorrow evening?"

Grinning, I said, "Only if you can't come tonight!  Seriously, I'd be happy 
if you just move in."

"Oh, Bill.  That sounds like heaven!  I wish it were that easy.  But we'll 
work it out.  And we'll work out more details after tomorrow."  The rest of 
our conversation was just the drivel you'd expect from two people in love.  
Good drivel, but not worth repeating.

All too soon, I was in my car driving home for another week of work and 
Miriam was headed for the first of her appointments for the day, as she 
reminded her customers why her employer's instruments and sheet music were 
better than anyone else's.


					*Book Two*


Monday I spent the whole day on the phone.  I couldn't get off of it to get 
any real work done.  And I'd promised myself to examine my own situation and 
decide what I really wanted.  The only time I had for that was during 
"Monday Night Football." Al, Boomer and Dan didn't get much of my attention 
that night, as I wrestled with the pros and cons of a relationship with 
Miriam.  Finally, it came down to asking myself; "Can I live without her?"  
That thought scared me silly, so I guessed I'd better settle some permanent 
arrangement pretty soon.
Yep.  I was (and am) in love.

My 'best case' scenario: Marry the girl, if she'd have me.


On Tuesday I was really under pressure.  I had a lot of work to catch up and 
I had this niggling idea in my head that I'd better start preparing for 
Miriam's 'ex'.  Finally, I couldn't stand it, and called the sheriff 
requesting an appointment.  Since we knew each other socially and I'd hosted 
a campaign meeting for him, he granted me some time that afternoon.  In 
fact, he even drove out to see me--said he needed to check on his deputies 
in this end of the county anyway.  It was very gracious of him and I thanked 
him for it.

What I wanted was advice.  And an ally.  I knew that until Carl did 
something, the sheriff's hands were tied.  But I was afraid that if he did 
something it could be very final.  I wanted to prevent that if I could.

I'm familiar with many security measures.  Some are common sense; others 
involve avoiding patterns.  But I was tied to a place, most of the time.  I 
lived and worked at the end of a long driveway at the top of a dead-end 
county road.  I could move, but he could find me elsewhere, if he could find 
me at all.  And I didn't have any notion that I'd be hard to find.  Besides, 
I didn't want to move.  I wanted to make things so difficult he'd give up 
and leave us alone.

Miriam was the link.  I had to arrange it so he'd have to physically follow 
her to find her and me.  That would take some careful preparation.  Miriam's 
boss, for example, could give her away in a second, without having any idea 
he'd done it.  So could the receptionist, or any of a dozen other people.  
Somehow, I had to arrange things so that Miriam could 'disappear' yet be 
available by phone.  And the phone couldn't be traceable either.

As Norm, the sheriff, and I kicked ideas around, he said he could work a 
deal with the phone company to get me a Salem line.  We could get Miriam a 
Salem address and use a Salem phone number.  Just tell everybody she got 
tired of the crap from Carl and the extra driving and moved to Salem.  Her 
paychecks could be deposited directly into her account, which she would move 
to a Salem branch of her bank.

That would make her hard to find, assuming Carl had no link to me.  Would he 
be likely to come after Kris? Hard to say.  Probably not, since that would 
tip us off and would give the law a reason to come after him...

At one point, Norm asked me if this woman was worth all of this.  
"Seriously, Bill, don't you think you could find a girl with less 'baggage' 
than this one?"
"Not likely, Norm," I replied.  He dropped it.  "A question I had for you: 
I'd like to start carrying a weapon again, at least in the car.  Can I get 
concealed weapons permits for more than one weapon? That is, a permit for 
me, without specifying a particular weapon?"

"Sure.  We do that all the time.  You'll have to come to the courthouse, 
though."

We batted around a few more ideas, including installing an alarm system tied 
in to his substation in town, then Norm left to check on his deputies, with 
my thanks and gratitude.

I called the security company Norm recommended and made an appointment for 
someone to see me the following day.

Just as I was making my list of tasks for the next day, Miriam drove in.


					2


Bouncing out of her car and over to give me a big hug, she kissed me wetly 
and said, "Hi, lover.  What's for dinner?"

I lost it.  When I stopped laughing, I said, "What do you mean, 'what's for 
dinner,' woman?  What do you think I keep you around for?  Get to cookin'!" 
with a faked smack on her butt.

"Insensitive brute!" she fell into the game and faked an accent.  "I've been 
out in the hot sun chopping weeds all day, while all you've done is tend 
that still.  And you want me to fix dinner too?"

Happy.  Together.  This is how it's supposed to be.

I grabbed her bags, and carried them into my room.  Although Miriam had been 
to the house a couple of times with Kris, she'd never seen that room.  To my 
relief, she liked it.

There was plenty of space.  I pointed to the walk-in closet.  "That's yours, 
love.  And if you need more drawer space, you can use some of the dresser 
there," I said, putting her bags in the closet.  I wanted her to feel 'at 
home' from the start.  I felt, and she confirmed, that she moved in as of 
that moment, even though it would be a few weeks before we arranged to move 
things from her apartment.

In the kitchen, I quickly laid out dinner.

Miriam kicked off her shoes and tossed her jacket over a dinette chair.  
"I'm not normally this messy," she declared, "but I want to be with you more 
than I want to put things away."  Looking appreciatively around the light 
and spacious kitchen, she added, "A girl can get real spoiled real fast in a 
place like this.  And such a handsome cook, too!  I don't know how I'll 
handle such prosperity."

"You'll handle it often, I hope," I joked back at her.  My goodness, I was 
glad to see her--to have her here!

In minutes, the potatoes were in the oven, the salad prepared and in the 
refrigerator and the charcoal was lighted.  Selecting a bottle of a good 
local wine, I poured two glasses.

"Here's welcome home.  May you find love, joy and peace here."  Miriam 
beamed as she touched her glass to mine, then sipped.

Obviously tired, she was too keyed up to be able to let go and relax.  After 
a few minutes, she got up and announced she was going to put her things 
away.  Fifteen minutes later, she returned in casual clothing with her face 
scrubbed free of makeup and her hair in a ponytail.  Seeing the look of 
appreciation on my face, she stopped and struck a pose in the kitchen door.  
It was a different look than that of the sophisticated business chick she 
had been when she arrived, and I found her lovelier without the makeup and 
tailored clothing.
"We have another 20 minutes or so before I can do anything more about 
dinner.  Would you like me to give you the $3 tour, or would you rather just 
rest?"

"The tour, by all means!" she said.  "I've only been in the living room and 
Kris's room before.  Show me.  Show me!" I'd forgotten about her incredible 
energy level.  Can I keep up with this girl?  This woman?

To my great satisfaction, she was delighted with the place.  It's bigger 
than she's used to, though not overwhelming.  She didn't seem to be looking 
for things she could change, but rather getting acquainted with her new home 
and what it contained.

She was impressed with my office suite and asked if there would be room for 
a desk for her.  I hadn't really thought that through, but we'll surely make 
room for her to have her own workspace.  I suspect I'll convert a guestroom 
for her.
In the kitchen again, Miriam found a comfortable seat while I put the steaks 
on the fire, and refilled our wineglasses.

[Maybe you're wondering why we weren't already in bed, or at least 'making 
out' all of this time.  Remember: Neither of us are teenagers.  We were 
constantly touching each other.  Our attention was focused on the other.  
We'd get to bed.]

After a comfortable pause--neither felt a need to speak, but rather just 
enjoyed the other's presence--Miriam said, "I feel I'm 'letting down the 
side' somehow, making you do all the cooking.  But you can't believe how 
good it feels to come here, after the stress of a trip, and have you here.  
I'm more relaxed than I think I've been in a year.  Normally I come home, 
cautiously, to a cold, empty apartment.  Here I'm not worried about my 
safety and I'm not returning alone, to a lonely place."

I kissed her, went to turn the steaks and while checking the potatoes said, 
"I'm glad you feel that way.  I'm going to do all I can to keep this place a 
haven for you.  But you know it isn't just a one-way street.  I'm really 
blessed.  Otherwise, I'd be nuking a TV dinner and watching hockey on 
satellite TV, then going to a lonely bed in this big house.  Having you here 
is, literally, an answer to prayer."

"You know, Bill--in spite of the fact that I set out to snare you, if I 
could--I still have to pinch myself to convince myself I'm really here.  And 
that you really love me.  I'm so much younger.  Why me, instead of a woman 
who has your level of experience and accomplishment?"

"It's no secret, dear.  One of the important criteria I listed was that my 
woman had to be physically attractive.  Not spectacular, necessarily--not a 
'trophy wife'--but substantially above average.  The reason is that I'm 
stimulated visually.  And I need a woman who turns me on, because sex is 
important in a relationship.  The other stuff, intelligence, ability, and so 
on is still vital, but I felt sexual attraction was a key element for me.
"There aren't many women my age who have maintained their appearance well 
enough to excite me.  And those who have are mostly either married or are 
tramps."

At that point I broke off to see if the steaks were done--as they were.  So 
we set the food on the table, and dug in.  When we'd beat back starvation a 
bit, we returned to the subject.

"Bill, don't I run a high risk of turning out to be immature, childish even, 
in your eyes after you've lived with me awhile? Or even worse, do you expect 
me to think like a middle-aged woman?"

"That's a risk we're both taking, love.  I just don't know.  I do know we'll 
have to have a lot of patience and tolerance to make this succeed.  But, 
since He answered my prayers with you, I assume that you are the woman God 
intended for me.  And from a comment or two Kris has let slip, the same 
applies to you--true?"

"Yes, I suppose it is true," she said.  "I set out to get you only after I'd 
really studied the list Kris conned me into generating--and she said you're 
the only man she knew who met my criteria.  That got me thinking about you, 
which got me interested in you, which got me turned on just thinking about 
you, and so on.  Prayer was definitely a part of it."

"Love, it seems to me that our concerns about each other are mirror images.  
Let's promise, right here, between ourselves, that either of us can remind 
the other that we're needing some help in any area.  If we can do that, I 
think we're sensitive enough to be able to meet the other's needs of the 
moment?"

"Sure, Bill," Miriam agreed with a grin, "I can do that.  I'm a woman.  But 
can you?"

"With the help of God and a good woman, I can!" I replied.

That was enough of the 'deep' stuff for the evening.  Offered dessert, 
Miriam declined.  "What I'd really like, darling, is to try out that hot tub 
I saw outside the bedroom.  Is it ready to go?  Or do you need to set it 
up?"

"Your wish is my command.  It's ready to go as soon as you're ready to get 
into it.  Do you want pure relaxation, or do you want company?"

The delightful giggle again: "Of course I want company.  Would m'lord do me 
the honor of accompanying me to the bath?"  Taking her hand, I helped her to 
her feet, and led the way to our room where we shed clothes and I gathered 
two large towels before opening the doors to the deck and the tub.

Removing the cover, I checked the water temperature by hand.  It seemed just 
right to me--less than boiling.  Turning on the jet pumps, I offered my hand 
to Miriam, to help her step in.  Then I froze.  She was flat-out gorgeous, 
in the light of the half-moon and the lamps from the bedroom.  Her 
giggle--my reaction was noticed and appreciated--broke the spell, and I 
helped her in.

Oops! Seems not everyone likes water as hot as I do.  With comments that she 
is neither Japanese nor lobster, she eased herself into the water inch by 
slow inch.  It was fun to watch, even knowing that she was uncomfortable.  
My tub contains a sort of contoured couch, as well as several seats, and the 
usual assortment of bubbling water jets.  I tried to steer Miriam to the 
couch, knowing that she was tired, and thinking this would be the most 
relaxing to her.

"Bill, if you don't take me in your arms, and hold me and cuddle me and 
soothe me, right now, I'll scream!"

Well, if this isn't every boy's wet dream, I don't know what is!  With arms 
wide, I invited her onto my lap, where she came like she fit.  We were 
sitting with just our shoulders out of the water, her legs stretched to my 
right, my left arm supporting her back and waist, her right arm around my 
neck.  Once she was settled, I got a very wet kiss, and a pair of hard 
nipples pressed into my chest.

Then she broke the kiss, so we both could breathe, and let me get a hand on 
her breast.  Of course, she had to move a bit, to get us both comfortable.  
Of course she did.  And, of course, her bare bottom on my bare lap was cause 
for a gallant response.

Feeling my erection, she squealed in delight, reached between her legs to 
grasp the intruder, and made sure it intruded where it could do some good!

It had only been two days, but she was hotter and tighter than I remembered.
"Oh, my love, what you do to me!" I panted.

She gave me a smirk and a little giggle, proud of her ability to turn me on.
I couldn't let her think she was in control.  So I flexed my crotch muscles, 
causing additional penetration.  Her eyes snapped shut as she gasped.

"Darling, you do OK yourself, believe me!" she breathed, huskily.

I kissed her, my tongue trying to penetrate her mouth as deeply as I had her 
vagina.  When she went limp in my arms, I broke the kiss, and asked, 
quietly, if she'd had enough of the tub, and was ready for bed.

"Absolutely.  Except that I think I'm going to need you to carry me.  I've 
come twice already!"

"No problem!" I said, standing with her in my arms--unfortunately coming 
unplugged in the process.  I carried her out of the tub and over to the 
sliding doors.  Proceeding inside, I gently deposited her on the bed and 
assured her I'd be right back.

I shut off the pumps and lights, covered the pool, and got back into the 
bedroom in record time, to discover that she had turned down the bed and was 
in it, covered to her chin in my down comforter.

"Cold, love?" I asked.  It wasn't as warm as the hot tub, certainly.  I 
normally like to cool down fast when I've been in the tub, but maybe she 
felt chilled.

"No, I'm just waiting for my lover.  I don't want to expose myself to any 
strange man who might come along."

That was all I needed.  I flipped the cover off her, then gazed rapturously 
at her fantastic body.  Naturally, I was hard as a rod.  Eventually, Miriam 
got tired of my just looking, and sat up to grab that rod and pull it down 
to where it could do something useful.  Feeling myself sinking into her heat 
and softness, I couldn't help but pity the man I was a mere week ago.  Then 
my spirit soared! This woman had committed herself to me for as long as I 
would have her! I would experience this whenever I wanted.

Or she wanted.

Thank you, Lord!


3


In the morning, I awoke feeling 'watched'.  Then I remembered.

Miriam was here!

Opening my eyes, I found her propped up on her pillows and an elbow, gazing 
at me with a sappy expression on her face.

"Good morning, darling," she said, when she saw my eyes open.

"Morning, love," I mumbled, but with a smile.  (I'm NOT a 'morning person'!) 
Then I staggered into the bathroom and, having emptied the tank, remembered 
I wasn't alone and brushed my teeth.

Stumbling back to bed, I smiled again--Miriam hadn't moved, as far as I 
could tell--and asked what her schedule was.  With a BIG grin, (she is, God 
help me! a morning person) she asked, "Do you mean my menstrual cycle, my 
work requirements, or my plan for today?"

"Don't be a wise ass.  Nobody likes a wise ass in skirts!" I grumbled, but 
with a smile.  "I'm most interested in what you need to do today--and the 
rest of the week, I guess."

"I told my boss I was taking today off.  I wanted to find out how much 
'moving in' you wanted me to do, and plan how to go about it.  Then I 
thought I'd organize my life a bit.  Tomorrow, I need to tell my boss where 
I am and how to reach me."

"Great!" I affirmed.  "I have about three hours I have to get in today, but 
it will keep until later.  How can I help?"

"Bill, this has all been really fast.  Do you really want me to move in with 
you?  That wasn't just something generated by the passion of the moment?"
"Miriam, relax.  I love you!  I really want you here!  The sooner the 
better.  OK?"

"Darling, Bill, thank you!" she said, and planted a kiss full on my mouth.

"That does remove some confusion, doesn't it? ... About moving: Should I 
just call a moving company and have everything packed and delivered here?"

Without hesitation, I said, "Absolutely not!"  THEN I noticed the effect 
this outburst had on Miriam.

"Love, I'm not having second thoughts!  But I want to do the best I can to 
avoid problems from your ex.  I don't think Carl knows about me.  I'd like 
to keep it that way.  So what I think we should do is move your things to a 
storage site in Salem about a month from now.  Meanwhile, is there any 
reason you need to go back to your apartment right away?"

"Sure is.  I need my clothes, and need to water the plants.  I need to check 
phone messages and check in with my boss.  I thought I'd do those things 
tomorrow.  Why?"

"That should be OK.  I have some security concerns and ideas.  We'll go into 
detail later, but your plan for tomorrow should be all right.  If anyone 
asks why you're taking more clothes, just say you're going on an extended 
swing through your territory, and will need them before you get back.

"Don't give your boss, or anybody, this phone number, address, or even my 
name, OK?  We don't want anybody to link you with me for as long as 
possible...  Do you have any friends, other than Kris, who could water the 
plants and keep an eye on things for you?  Kris is a link to me.  Not that 
that is so important, except that it's a link to where you will be, so we 
need someone else who's discreet and reliable."

"Mary, in the apartment next door, is nice.  She'd look after things for 
me."
"Great!" I said.  "Now let's talk about your job.  You'll tell them you're 
moving to Salem.  When they ask why, you can tell them that it's more 
central to your territory, but hint about being tired of Carl....  As soon 
as you have a new phone number, you'll give it to them.  Meanwhile, you'll 
check the machine in your apartment at least daily for messages...  Does all 
this make sense?"

"Yes, Darling.  And even if it didn't, I'll do whatever you say."

"Marvelous.  But it's better if you understand and agree with the 
reasoning."

She nodded.

"OK.  Here's the plan: We'll put most of your things in storage in Salem.  
We'll get you a mailing address at one of those private mail box places.  
We'll have to arrange for somebody to pick up that mail regularly, but that 
shouldn't be a problem.  Have your pay deposited directly to your bank 
account.

"What we're trying to do here is create as many 'dead ends' as possible.  A 
determined investigator could get through all of this.  But I'm hoping an 
amateur can't.  So we'll 'move' you to Salem, as far as the world is 
concerned.  But Salem will be a dead end.  Your furniture and things will 
disappear there.  Your address will be there, but a dead end.  We'll get you 
a Salem phone line, into here.  But the sheriff assures me he can get your 
address and number completely buried, so no one can get to them.  If your 
boss or a customer calls you, all they will be able to find out is that it 
is a Salem number.  They'll never be able to connect the number to an 
address.  Of course, Carl is the real target of all this.

"So go ahead.  Get whatever you need tomorrow.  But count on buying 
everything else for at least the short term.  Set your answering machine so 
that you can access it remotely.  Give your neighbor a key.  And say goodbye 
to the place."

"Wow!  You have been thinking about this, haven't you?" she said, impressed.

"Of course I have.  Now that I've found you, I'm not about to lose you to 
some obsessive maniac.  I want to look forward to spending the next twenty 
or thirty years--however long I'm given--with my cock buried in your cunt!  
And I want to be looking at you, not over my shoulder, while I'm doing it."

Giggling, Miriam agreed.


My shower isn't as big as the one in the hotel.  But we found that two could 
use it at the same time if they wanted to.

We wanted to.

Fun.


While I got some essential work out of the way, Miriam called Norm, the 
sheriff, to enlist his help in getting a completely unlisted Salem phone 
line installed at my house.  It won't be cheap, but well worth its cost.  
Then she called her landlord and gave notice for six weeks in the future.  
And tomorrow the private security guy will call on me here.

Miriam spent the rest of the morning looking around the house; opening 
cupboards and closets, checking supplies and groceries, making notes about 
silver and china for entertaining, and all the other things a woman must do 
when taking over a house.

After a light lunch, I suggested we go to Salem for a quick shopping trip.  
I think I goofed.  I meant to go to Costco to stock up on food and printer 
paper.  Miriam heard 'shopping' and envisioned Meier & Frank, Nordstrom's, 
Bullocks, I. Magnin, and so forth.  In the end we compromised.  We went to 
the farm co-op store in Dallas and bought 'country' clothes for Miriam.  My, 
does she make a fine country girl!  Half a dozen shirts, 4 pair of jeans, 
three dresses (size 6!), socks, boots, two pair of shoes, hat, belt, and she 
still needed new underwear!  She found that at Penney's--and Victoria's 
Secret.

I hate shopping!  But you know?  I enjoyed the day.  I was providing for my 
woman.  I needed to do that.


When we returned home and her loot was stowed, Miriam insisted she would fix 
dinner.  "Didn't Brenda cook for you, Bill?" she asked.

"Well, sure.  But . . ."

"But, nothing!  I'm cooking.  If you can't find anything more interesting on 
TV, you can sit over there and keep me company.   <mumble, grumble>  The day 
I can't cook for my man, I'll turn in my  <mumble, grumble> . . . ."

The girl obviously felt strongly about it.

Dinner was very nice, although simple.  But then, she didn't have a feel for 
the kitchen yet, and hadn't laid in her own stock of groceries.  What I had, 
leaned heavily towards frozen, nuke-able dinners, and stuff in cans.

Miriam was vivacious.  She seemed energized by the efforts of the day.  And 
she was a funny, witty, charming, entertaining sprite at night.

She was really impressed with the house and the property.  She wanted to 
know 'why' a lot of things were as they were.  In the house, the answer was, 
mostly, 'Brenda wanted it that way.'  And outdoors it was mostly, 'That's 
all I've had time to do.'  I suppose she'll make some changes, but she was 
quite satisfied with what she found here, and was merely curious.

When we'd finished dinner, she shooed me out saying, "I'll handle it.  You 
go watch the news.  Call me when the weather forecast comes on!  Scoot!"

Ten minutes later the dishwasher was running and a lovely female joined me 
to watch the news.  But she said she couldn't see properly from anywhere in 
the room, except in my lap.  I thought I could handle that.  And I did.  I 
handled that...and that...and that.  Most fun I've had watching Dan Rather 
in years.  The kisses were very nice, too.

Soon we were ready for bed, though far from sleepy.  We handled that, too.


The next day, Miriam drove to her apartment and packed, as planned.  
Bringing clothing and items she felt she needed immediately, she pretty well 
filled her car.  It would be hard to maintain that she was just going on 
another sales trip.  But she ran her errands first and told a convincing 
tale to her boss.  Then she hit the road, coming home.

It was late when she arrived, so I fixed a simple dinner.  I helped unload 
her car, which we parked in the garage alongside my Chrysler, my little 
pickup being relegated to the cold and wet.  I just hung the garment bags in 
her closet.  The suitcases went there too, until she could unpack them.  
There were a few boxes that found an overnight home on the floor of my 
closet.  Then I fed my mate and took her to bed.

Making love was more 'moving' that night, which made it particularly 
memorable.  It wasn't very energetic--Miriam was tired--but it was an 
expression of love and commitment, now that she had moved in to stay.



*Book 3*


During the next week the Salem line was installed and Miriam arranged for 
her address at a commercial mailbox facility.  Meanwhile, I had the house 
wired with the best alarm system I could buy, including 'panic buttons,' all 
wired straight to the sheriff's station in town.

And that was all I was willing to do.  I would not turn my home into a 
fortress, nor live in fear of a crazy man.  Miriam seemed more relaxed and 
content than I'd seen her since her college days.  And I was ecstatic.


Shortly after we had the Salem line installed and an answering machine 
attached, Miriam gave her new address and phone number to the people where 
she worked.  Customers could still call her old number: Miriam would check 
that recorder daily and return calls.

One thing I insisted on: Miriam would not answer the phone directly.  She 
would let the answering machine screen her incoming calls.

That was a wise precaution.

As I half expected, about three weeks later her ex was on the line, 
demanding to know where she was.  I made a copy of the tape and gave it, 
along with a copy of the restraining order, to Norm, who passed it to the 
Marion County Sheriff.  Since we were trying to let the world think Miriam 
was in Salem, it had to come from there.  From Marion County, a complaint 
went to the DA in Lake County.  Carl, her ex, would be cited for violation 
of the restraining order and, we hoped, be fined or even jailed.  Our goal 
was to cause him to back off some.  We hoped that by the time he thought the 
coast was clear again, Miriam's trail would be too cold for him to follow.


I did not want to live in fear of this jerk.  Problem was, he was not only a 
homicidal maniac; he was a smart, well-trained homicidal maniac.  It seemed 
to me that some really strong preventative measures were indicated, to keep 
this idiot at bay.

A very good friend was closely connected with a retired Marine Corps 
Commandant.  I called Paul and laid my problem out for him, requesting that 
he call General O'Reilly and ask for a name and phone number of someone I 
could talk to.

Two days later, I had the name of the commander of the SEAL detachment in 
Coronado, along with General O'Reilly's permission to use his name and to 
ask him for any additional help he could give.  Paul said, "The General read 
this guy's jacket--Don't ask how he got it.  Retired Commandants can get 
anything!--and decided no Marine should have to put up with this scumbag!  
He'll do whatever he can to help."

When I called Commander Kochenskii, he knew who I was and the basics of what 
I wanted.  General O'Reilly had already called him!  We arranged to meet in 
San Francisco in three days.


The Commander was a compact, muscular guy.  Just what I expected a SEAL to 
look like.  I gave him all the details I could about Miriam's ex, Carl, 
including a copy of the restraining order, some pictures, and everything I 
could remember about what she'd told me regarding his past and present 
activities.

I was moderately surprised to learn that the Commander had not only read his 
complete record jacket, but had seen the files regarding his discharge.  
Then he had interviewed a half dozen SEALs who remembered the guy.

"This is the kind of turkey we try to weed out long before they become a 
SEAL," he said.  "Somehow, this jerk slipped through a crack... Happens.  We 
can't catch them all... Anyway, we'll do what we can to help.  I can help 
right away, by detailing a team for 'training' in southern Oregon.  We're a 
lot more sophisticated now than when he was with us.  We'll tap his phones.  
We'll watch him.  The first time he even looks like he's trying to contact 
you or Miriam, we'll put the fear of God in him!

"If this guy is really insane, though, I don't think that will end it.  
Probably, he'll just get more cautious.  We'll be ready for that and nail 
him again--with some physical incentive to let it go.

"If there is a third time, we'll have to arrange a 
non-fatal--unfortunately--'accident' for him.  While he's still in the 
hospital, we'll make sure he knows that he's had his three strikes and he's 
out.  He'll need to move to Florida right away if he doesn't want to be back 
in the hospital."

This guy was serious!  And he was saying just what I wanted to hear!  "Do 
you think that will really do it?" I asked.

"Not over the long haul," he answered, candidly.  "But it will get you free 
and clear for a year or two.  May I offer some suggestions?"

"Please do!" I replied.

"As soon as we have him out of circulation for a bit, Miriam needs to 
'disappear'.  By that I mean, she needs to quit her job and vanish."

"I have no problem with that.  I can certainly support her OK," I said.  
"I'm not sure how she would take it, though.  She's proud of what she's 
accomplished in her career and might be reluctant to give it up."

"Well, it's a suggestion.  But a strong one.  Think about it...

"Another thing:" he continued, "Your daughter is a link.  Even if we're 
successful, he could always come to her for information about Miriam's 
whereabouts.  And no matter what, that can't be entirely prevented."

"Yeah, I see that.  And I don't see any solution, either.  If you come up 
with any ideas, I'd sure like to hear them."

We had to leave it at that.  Commander Kochenskii promised to keep me posted 
with progress reports, and I promised to do the same.


I called Paul with an update and my thanks before I left San Francisco.  I 
don't think I'm at risk yet, but why take chances when I can call from a 
line I know isn't tapped?


2


Back home, I waited a couple of days for Miriam to return from her latest 
sales trip.  This one was to Cour 'd Elene, Idaho.

When she'd returned, unpacked, put the dirty clothes in the laundry, eaten 
the dinner I'd prepared, and we were sitting in the hot tub, I asked, 
"Miriam?"

"Yes?"

"How hard would it be for you to give up your job?"

Her eyes narrowed.  "Why?"

I smiled and pulled her to me.  "Two reasons.  First, I miss you a lot when 
you're on a trip.  Second, I think you need to 'disappear' soon after we 
move your things out of your apartment."

"That doesn't happen for a week yet," she mused, relaxing in my arms.  "But 
I can give my 30-day notice tomorrow."

"No.  Don't do that.  Just disappear."

"Bill!  I can't do that!  They've been good to me there.  I can't just not 
show up."

"OK... I can see that... I'll tell you what we'll do.  I'll get Norm to call 
the sheriff in your old town.  He'll tell him the situation--but not where 
you are--and get him to arrange to see your boss discreetly.  Your boss 
already knows all about Carl, you said.  If the sheriff tells him why you 
had to take off, I think he'll understand.  Once you disappear, you can pack 
up everything you need to return to your boss - confidential client 
information and so on - and ship it from the mail place in Salem.  A couple 
of weeks later, you can write him a letter, outlining any business things 
you need to.  You can tell him you were afraid for your life, being 
constantly stalked, and just had to leave.  And you can ask him not to say 
anything to anybody."

"Do you think that will work?" she asked optimistically.

"No.  But it will buy us some time."  I looked at her, turning to mush 
inside as I did.  "Most of all, it will make me a lot more comfortable, 
having you here where I can protect you.  You don't 'disappear' until 
Commander Kochenskii says to.  He plans to put Carl out of business for a 
bit.  You'll fade then."
"When will all this happen?  Will I go on another trip first?"

"I think as soon as your things are moved, Carl will act.  When that 
happens, Commander Kochenskii will act, too.  As soon as he says Carl's out 
of the way, you'll disappear--here.

"Having studied his records, and listened to those who knew him, Commander 
Kochenskii believes this is a guy who thinks only with his fists or his 
prick.  Since he's so physical, the plan is to have him so busy on the 
receiving end of physical he'll finally decide he'd be better off somewhere 
else, finding someone easier to pick on."

Giving us both a moment to digest what I'd said, I continued, "It seems the 
SEALs feel bad about giving all that training to someone without enough 
conscience and self-discipline to use it properly.  They really don't want 
to turn trained homicidal maniacs loose on the civilian population.

"They will do all they can to make it up to you."

"But, Bill.  How can they insure my safety unless they kill him?" Miriam 
asked, with more insight than I had expected--I'd underestimated her again.

"They can't, but they have to try," I answered.  "They'll take it in 
escalating steps--I guess I didn't explain this very well--each one doing 
more damage.  If Carl ends up on a slab, no one will lose any sleep over it. 
  But they'll try to convince him to move across the country and leave you 
be, first."


The next day I arranged to speak with Norm again.  He agreed with the plan 
we'd worked out and would talk with the Lake County sheriff.  He knew the 
guy well and didn't see a need to use the Marion County Sheriff as a 
'cutout.'  Miriam wouldn't make any more trips, and in two or three weeks, 
she'd disappear.


Soon after the van arrived to pick up the things from Miriam's apartment, 
Carl showed up, wondering where his 'girl friend's' things were going.  The 
next morning, the local police picked him up in an alley and briefly jailed 
him for public drunkenness and vagrancy, until he convinced them that he had 
a place to live and had been 'mugged.'  He didn't tell anyone about the 
bruises around his ribs and thighs.

The next day, there was another message from him on the recorder, almost 
incoherent with raving and threats.  This time, copies were not only sent to 
the Lake County DA for probation violation, but to the SEAL team.

Two days later, Carl was pulled from the wreckage of his car, which had 
apparently skidded off the road and rolled down a steep embankment.  Carl 
had a broken arm and leg, and several ribs were broken--as well as his nose. 
  Both eyes were black and an ear was torn, too.

He'd be in the hospital for a week, with heavy casts immobilizing him--then 
he'd be in the county jail on the probation violation.

It was time for Miriam to 'disappear'.


3


At first, coping with all the free time was really tough for her--not having 
work responsibilities.  And we both felt that we had been forced into this 
situation, which rankled, to say the least.

Miriam busied herself with 'homemaker' tasks--cleaning, buying groceries, 
cooking, laundry.  Even sewing.  (She repaired clothes I didn't think I'd 
ever be able to use again.)  But after two weeks, it was obvious to us both 
that she needed something more.  She had, after all, successfully built a 
career in outside sales over a large territory.  She was used to travel and 
to a busy schedule.  To seeing new faces, and to the requirement to use her 
considerable powers of persuasion to sell her product line.

Our growing and deepening love for each other, while becoming more important 
to us both daily, could not fill that need.

But it was hard for us to plan for her future--or our future--with Carl 
still lurking in the background.  While Commander Kochenskii and his people 
had put Carl out of the picture for a couple of months, none of us had any 
misconceptions that we'd heard the last of him.  He would find us.  And he 
would try to do something about it.


Miriam asked me to put her to work.  So I did.  I took her out with me on a 
couple of short trips to interview prospective consulting clients.  As soon 
as she had a good idea of what I was trying to do, I let her handle selling 
the service.  Turned out, she's a lot better at it than I am.  No surprise 
there.
And I enlisted her expertise in the marketing and sales parts of the 
consulting work I was doing.  It also turned out she's a very good 
consultant.  I built a low partition and made her a space of her own in my 
office.


In the evenings, we fixed elaborate meals--high in flavor, low in 
calories--for each other.  And at night, we loved each other.  Sometimes 
elaborately, with warm oil massage, candles, and the whole nine yards.  
Other times simply, with simple love, trust and passion.


All too soon, I heard from Commander Kochenskii again.  Carl was 'on the 
prowl'.  The SEALs would do their best, but I needed to be prepared, too.  
 From that time, I went armed constantly.

We hated it!  Our simple joy with each other, and our growing love, had this 
big dark cloud hanging over it.  We just wanted to be left alone, to live 
our lives in peace.  We were forced to live with constant vigilance, always 
concerned about security--always checking behind, for what might be lurking.
While this might be a good thing, and surely taught us not to take anything 
life gave us for granted, it was wearing and disgusting, that this animal 
could so threaten us.


I had to visit a client in Bend for a few days.  I tried to get Miriam to go 
with me--it's lovely country, after all.  But she said she'd stay home.  The 
client didn't have any sales problem and she had work in plenty to do.  
She'd be fine.

This was the first time we were separated by my work.

The first two nights, I called from my motel, chatting about the events of 
the day.  Nothing much, really, from either of us, except that we needed the 
contact.  I'd head home the third morning, and promised to call just before 
I left Bend, so Miriam would have an idea of when to expect me.

But when I called, there was no answer.  We habitually disabled the 
answering machines when we were at home, but were also punctilious about 
turning them on when we left.  I called again 10 minutes later, still with 
no answer.  I was getting quietly panicked.  So I called the sheriff's 
office and asked for Norm, himself.

He finally came on the line and I told him the situation.  We both hoped it 
was a simple oversight, but Norm understood the problem and said he'd have 
my place checked out.  I told him I'd see about getting the SEALs there, 
too.

Then I called Commander Kochenskii in Coronado.  He'd have his team alerted, 
and send somebody, but it would take three hours for the nearest SEAL to get 
there.  He hadn't heard anything from the team that was keeping an eye on 
Carl, but it would have been easy for him to slip the leash, since they 
weren't keeping a tight surveillance on him.

My next move was to start burning up the highway on my way home.  I was two 
hours away, but determined to find out what was wrong with my woman.

An hour down the road, I stopped for gas and nature.  While stopped, I 
called home again.  Still no answer.  Did Norm's deputies get there?  What 
is going on?  Why doesn't anybody answer the phone?  The questions buzzed 
around in my head, sending me down the road faster and faster.

Just outside Salem, I saw a police car, lights flashing, with a pulled-over 
motorist.  That gave me a little sanity check and slowed me down.

Finally, I neared home.  First stopping in town, I tried once more to call.  
Still no response!  Didn't the sheriff's people find her yet? I wondered.  
Driving up the county road, I decided caution was probably advisable, so I 
parked in a neighbor's driveway, a half mile from my house, deciding to walk 
to the top of the hill and approach through the trees from above.  Take the 
high ground! my Marine Corps tactics instructors used to preach.  I had two 
pistols, the snub barreled .38 I carried, and the long .357 from the car.

Passing my driveway, I saw a sheriff's car, but no sign of any deputies.  
Then, from above the house, I saw a still body, in uniform, on my back deck. 
  This indicated that Carl was, indeed, there and had laid the deputy out.  
I just hoped he hadn't killed him.

My house was a trap--for me.


Very slowly, very carefully, I worked my way closer. I'm really too old for 
this! I thought.  It also occurred to me that SEAL reinforcements should be 
showing up any time now.  About 20 yards from the house, I stopped and 
studied everything.  I finally saw a figure sitting in a dining room chair.  
Looking again through the small binoculars I carry in the car, I could see 
that it was Miriam.  From time to time her head moved and she was sitting 
upright.  So it seemed she was awake.  But then I saw that she was tied to 
the chair and gagged.

Where was Carl?

I had to remain still for over half an hour, before he finally moved.  He'd 
been on a sofa in the living room.  He got up to make a 'patrol' of the 
house, giving me a chance to slip to the side of the house and reach the 
disguised, buried alarm box.  I was able to trip the silent 'panic button', 
and also to disable the house alarm system.  Now I could be an intruder in 
my own home, without advertising the fact to the intruder within.

While Carl was in the bedrooms, I entered the kitchen.

As soon as he came out of the hall, I shot him.

Even with both hands on the pistol, leaning against the kitchen doorjamb, 
I'm ashamed to admit I almost missed.  But it was good enough.  I just 
skinned his head, knocking him out for a minute--all I needed to truss him 
up like a turkey.  The scalp wound bled like a stuck pig.

Let those who've been raised on 'Ivanhoe' and tales of cowboy heroes who 
shoot pistols out of bad guys' hands try chivalry.  For those of us who've 
been shot at, the priority is getting the opponent DOWN!  If he survives, 
that's his good luck.  My own survival, and Miriam's, was my only concern.  
I'd meant to nail the bastard right through the chest!


Freeing Miriam, the gag came off first.  "Are you OK?" was my first, 
breathless, question.  Assured she was, I asked, as I freed her hands, "Did 
he bring anyone with him?"

"Not that I know of," Miriam answered, understanding the question.  "How's 
the guy on the back patio?"

"Dunno.  I haven't had time to check.  You can do that in a minute.  We have 
a couple of decisions to make.  First, do we let him live?"

Miriam couldn't believe I'd asked that, but it was a pertinent question.  
OK, he'd survive us.

"OK, love.  But I want to make sure he doesn't feel real eager to come back. 
  I intend to break him a little.  Will you forgive me that?"

"What do you have in mind?" she asked.  I misunderstood her.  I thought she 
was going to object.  The female is the more dangerous of the species!

"I had in mind both knees, and the right hand and wrist," I said.  "If I do 
a good job, he'll recover eventually, but not without a lot of pain, and not 
completely."

"Oh.  I agree! One hundred percent!" Miriam answered.  "But those three 
areas need to be shattered, not just broken! Maybe a break in the jaw would 
help the pain quotient, and thus reinforce the lesson, too?"

Dragging him outside, we propped him on a built-in bench.  I went to get a 
heavy piece of pipe, while Miriam checked the deputy.  "He's breathing, 
Bill!" she called, just as I swung the pipe like I was going to hit one out 
of the park.

The pain of his right knee being broken woke Carl back to consciousness.  
But when the left one was also broken, he went right back out.  I hit each a 
couple more heavy swats, to make sure the damage would be complete.  Then we 
untied him carefully, and laid the right arm over the back of the bench.

Miriam asked if she could do the honors.  After all, he had terrorized her 
for years.  She was owed.  After beating the right wrist, hand, and forearm 
repeatedly, she shoved him off the bench, so he was lying on the patio.  
Miriam asked me to stomp the wrist and fingers, to make it look more like 
the results of a fight.  I was happy to.  And added a few good kicks to the 
ribs and kidneys.  I wanted to break bones.  I wanted to hurt him so much 
he'd change his way of thinking about me and about Miriam.  I succeeded.

Then my quick-thinking lover scraped my hands on the bricks of a planter to 
skin the knuckles, and artistically mussed my hair and rubbed some dirt into 
my face.  Ripping a knee of my trousers, she dirtied that up, too, and 
demanded my shirt.  "We'll tell anyone who comes you've already changed into 
a new t-shirt," she said.

As if on cue, a young man I recognized as one of the SEALs stepped onto the 
patio from the same trees I'd used to screen my approach.

"Very artistic.  I like your style, Ma'am."  He nodded to me, "Sir...  I saw 
it all from the trees, where I stayed in case you needed a backup.  You 
overpowered him, after taking a couple of hits and giving out some good 
shots of your own.  You stomped his hand when he wouldn't let go of the .357 
he'd stolen from your bedroom...

"There's a couple of deputy sheriffs about 50 yards downslope, closing fast. 
  You tripped the silent alarm, so they didn't use sirens.  But they won't 
waste around with one of their own already here and not reporting."

"No problem," I replied.  "We'll just move very slowly, with our hands 
visible, until they settle down.  Their other deputy is probably OK.  
That'll help."
Almost at once, we heard, "Freeze!  Hands straight out to your sides!  
Everybody turn and face me--slowly!"  We complied, as one deputy came around 
each corner of the house, weapon drawn, scanning the area in the approved 
manner.

"Deputies, I'm Bill.  The owner of this house.  The lady is Miriam, my 
fianc e.  The other gentleman on his feet is a SEAL.  I think your other 
deputy is OK.  He's just inside the house.  The bad guy is the one on the 
deck there.  He's out, but you'll want to cuff him before he comes around.  
He's a really bad one!"

While the deputy behind us cuffed Carl, muttering an exclamation under his 
breath when he saw his right hand, the other, never wavering from his stance 
with his weapon 'covering' us, said, "May we see some identification please? 
You first, Bill.  Slowly, with your left hand, please."

"No problem, deputy.  But you need to know I'm armed.  There is a pistol at 
the small of my back.  I'll turn around so you can watch it and your partner 
can watch me in front.  I don't want anybody else hurt here."

"Yes, sir!" the deputy responded.  "Just stand still and my partner will 
take the weapon.  He'll also get your wallet--right hip?"

"Sure," I said, glad things were calming down.  And once he'd compared my 
driver's license picture, he put his weapon away and suggested we all have a 
seat.  Carl, on the ground, wasn't going anywhere and we were OK.

Just as the deputy who seemed to be in charge started to ask what was going 
on, the first deputy came staggering out of the house, supported by the 
other.  Rubbing the back of his head, he looked really sheepish and said, "I 
never even saw him.  I got the call from Norm, and was checking the place 
out when I felt a blow to the side of my head.  That's all I remember."

"OK, Chuck.  If you feel up to it, drive back to the station.  Otherwise, 
you can have the medic check you over...  In fact, I think you'd better do 
that, and ride back with Andy."

"Sounds good to me.  I'll just sit down over here."

"Now.  What happened here?" the senior deputy asked.

The three of us filled him in on Carl's sorry history of violence and 
intimidation.  And that he was more dangerous than most because of his SEAL 
training and experience.  We also assured him that Carl was not sane, by 
most standards, and was capable of extreme violence.

"Your deputy--Chuck?--was real lucky!" the SEAL said.  "Carl could have 
killed him easy by hitting him just a tiny bit harder.  Maybe he's got an 
especially think skull.  Anyway, I'll light a couple of candles in thanks 
for him.  Chuck should spring for a whole novena, if he's Catholic, or be 
real grateful if he's not."

Miriam confirmed that.  She felt the only reason she hadn't been mistreated 
much more than she was (her eye was turning black, and she had some nasty 
bruises on face, chest, arms and legs; where Carl had pummeled her in his 
frustration), was that he, somehow, felt he needed to 'win her back' by 
eliminating anyone who showed any interest in her.  "Bill was determined and 
lucky.  He slowed Carl early with a kick to a knee, then was able to damage 
him more with kicks as they scuffled.  When he went to free me, Carl got a 
gun.  That's when the arm happened.  It was all pretty fast and really 
scary!"

The SEAL, (Chief Hanrahan, we learned later) confirmed everything we said.
I could tell that the deputy wasn't convinced, but he wasn't going to push 
it, either.  After all, a very dangerous guy, who had just missed killing 
one of his fellow deputies, was out of commission and under arrest.  The 
citizens had defended their home.  Everybody seemed happy.  All he had to do 
was wait for the ambulance to fetch Carl, go home and write up his reports.  
Andy, he decided, could book the prisoner in.  He'd take Chuck back to the 
station if the paramedic said he was OK.

Chief Hanrahan politely asked if he could accompany Andy in the ambulance, 
"Just to make sure the prisoner gets where he needs to go.  I'm more 
familiar with his training, and maybe could prevent something upsetting from 
happening." Quite happy for the help, the deputy agreed.

"Would it be all right if we go clean up?" I asked.  "We've had a lot of 
wear and tear this morning.  I need a shower and clean clothes.  Miriam 
needs a stint in the hot tub, ice packs, and some time in bed.  Could I 
leave you to handle things out here, or will we be needed some more today?"

After a brief moment to consider, the deputy said, "Go ahead.  Please call 
Norm as soon as you can.  He'll be in touch, or I will, if we need anything 
more."
Miriam and I went gingerly to our room, where we collapsed into each other's 
arms.


Clutching me as strongly as I was her, Miriam put her head to my neck and 
let it go.  I'd never seen her cry like that.  She wasn't hysterical.  But 
she wasn't just sitting with tears in her eyes, either.  Strong sobs shook 
her frame.  Her tears flowed from her, as she poured out years of tension, 
fear, frustration and rage.

When she finally stopped sobbing, she stood, took my hand, and pulled me up. 
  Without a word, she undressed us both, then led me into the shower, where 
we tenderly washed each other's hurts.  When we were dried, we treated our 
abrasions with antiseptic cream--after I'd taken several Polaroid shots of 
her bruises.

"What's your pleasure, love?  Ice packs or hot tub?" I asked.

"Hot tub first."

We retreated to the hot tub at the corner of our deck.  The tub has a 
marvelous view, but is not visible except from our bedroom or the upper 
deck.
Holding each other in the soothing hot water, feeling my aches melt away as 
the heat and water jets did their work, I could see Miriam relaxing, too.

"Is that the end of him?" she asked.

"I think so.  I hope so.  The Chief says they'll do a little conditioning on 
him before he gets to prison.  I don't think, personally, that he'll survive 
prison.  If he does, he's in no shape to come after us again.  His right 
hand will never recover, and may have to be amputated.  Both knees will 
always be crippled, even if he gets artificial joints...  He thought he was 
a tough guy.  He just didn't have sense enough to realize he'd run into 
people who were tougher.  You impress me a lot, Love! ... I need to call 
Norm.  Do you mind?" When she signaled OK, I picked up the outside phone and 
put the call on the speakers, so Miriam could listen.


"Bill!  I'm very glad to hear your voice," Norm said.

"I'll bet you are!" I replied.  "Have you heard from your people?"

"Just a preliminary from the dispatcher.  They're OK, and they have the 
perpetrator.  How about filling me in?"

"Glad to, Norm, although the senior deputy out here seems to have his stuff 
together.  You'll want to hear from him, too." I proceeded to give Norm the 
'official' version of events.  When I finished, I asked, "Norm, how can we 
be sure this guy doesn't get off--or out in two years courtesy of our 
wonderful parole board--and come after us again?"

Norm laughed!  (I didn't think any of this was a laughing matter!)  "I don't 
think you'll need to worry about that.  That SEAL commander..."

"Commander Kochenskii?"

"Yeah, him.  Anyway, he and I were talking half an hour ago.  Seems the Feds 
want him for investigation of criminal violation of national security.  So 
while he's still in casts--that Chief thinks you do good work, by the way.  
He's been on the horn to the Commander.  They're impressed.  For an old 
jarhead, they think you're OK.  High praise indeed, Bill!--anyway, the Feds 
will borrow him for a couple of weeks.  While they're 'investigating' him, 
he'll receive some pretty powerful conditioning.  I think he'll be scared 
spitless of you and Miriam when they're done with him.

"Then we'll get him back and try him for attempted murder and anything else 
we can think of.  I've spoken with the DA.  There will be no plea bargains 
for this guy.  The judges can't do much with the sentencing guidelines and 
the parole board is a law unto themselves.  But he'll be in for a good 
while.  I think when he finally gets out--if he ever does--he'll get as far 
away from Oregon as he can."

"OK.  Thanks again, Norm.  We're really glad your deputy is going to be all 
right."  With that, we hung up.

"We'd better get out of this tub, dear.  We've been in here too long 
already.  And I want to get an ice pack on your eye."

After steering Miriam to bed even though it was early afternoon, I put on 
shorts and slippers and made a tour of the place.  Everyone was gone and 
someone had even brought my car up to the garage.  I locked up, and crushed 
ice for an ice bag for Miriam's eye.

She didn't like the cold, but knew it would help.  Her shiner would be 
pretty spectacular for the next week!


Lying there, cuddling, both of us too beat up to even pet each other--or 
welcome the petting--we were lost in our own thoughts for a long while, as 
we watched the sun set over the valley.  (At least it hadn't rained!  A bit 
unusual, though very welcome, for that time of year.)

Although my body was beat up, my mind was in bliss.  What a miracle!  This 
woman not only met every criteria on my list, she was more than I had 
dreamed possible.  One tough lady, she'd done what needed to be done without 
whining or pussyfooting.  And she'd contributed her share.  Some pieces 
clicked together in my head.  And in my heart.

"Miriam?"

"Yes, Bill."

"Would you marry me?"

I saw an expression on her face I'd never seen before.  Her lips began to 
quiver, and her eyes filled with tears.  She had a look of incredible 
yearning, and love, and joy--and deep sadness.

After kissing me slowly, tenderly, she sat back and said, "No, Bill.  I 
can't do that.  Ask anything else and I will, gladly."

"Miriam, I'm confused.  I love you.  You love me.  You've offered yourself 
without reservation.  This is what I want more than anything.  Why?  Is it 
because I'm too old?"

"Darling Bill.  I'm a slut who let a worthless jerk push me around.  I put 
you in danger.  I put my best friend, your daughter, in danger, and your 
grandchildren.  Just love me as long as you can.  Let me live with you--for 
as long as you can.  Then let me go, when you don't want me around any more. 
  That's all I need.  That's all I ask."

"What crap!  I repeat: Miriam, will you marry me?"

Tears streaming from her eyes, she answered, "You fool, Bill!  If you really 
want me that much, of course I will.  I'll be proud to be your wife!"


We were married two weeks later.



Two years had passed when our son was baptized.  Miriam wanted at least one 
child of her own.  I was more than happy to indulge her.

We heard that Carl had suffered additional injuries in prison--the state had 
sent him to a prison in Ohio under a prisoner exchange program where the 
states help each other out with 'problem' prisoners--which resulted in a 
shattered ankle.  Apparently he'd been raped by a couple of inmates twice 
his size, who didn't appreciate it when he tried to protect himself.  He'd 
never get out of a wheelchair.  They bashed his head against the floor a few 
times, too.
Then he had a massive stroke, which caused severe and permanent paralysis.  
Carl is out of our lives forever.


Miriam works on sales projects on a commission basis and is bringing in more 
money than I ever made.

I've reduced my workload drastically, taking only projects that have a 
special fascination.  Everything else that comes to us is referred to a 
group that can handle the projects competently and pays us a fee for the 
referral.  My days are spent about one-fourth on work, one-fourth on 
community events, and the rest raising my son and enjoying my wife.

Miriam works harder than I do, but still has plenty of time for the men in 
her life.


We are content.


<1st attachment end>


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