QUICK HOOK by Hooked1957
I should have seen it coming. Life was too perfect, especially at that moment.
It was a Friday night on a beautiful summer day. My Corona was icy cold as it slid down my throat. The Cubs were beating up on the Cardinals on the bigscreen, 7-2, in the fifth inning. My trusty German Shepherd, Rice, was laying to the side of my La-Z-Boy, curled up and mostly sleeping, only waking and opening his eyes a bit when I would let out a whoop of celebration over the success the Cubs were having.
With the exception of the TV and my occasional shouts of joy, the house was quiet. My wife of 21 years, Traci, was over at a neighbor's house, and my 18-year-old son and 17-year-old daughter were both spending the night over at friends' houses. It was just the dog and me, the Cubbies and a case of Corona in the fridge. Oh, yeah, and limes. I didn't often bother with the limes, but I picked up a couple earlier in the day when I found out I would be alone for the evening. Treating myself good.
I heard the front screen door open and close and assumed it was my wife coming in from visiting with her longtime friend, Lisa. I heard her moving in the front of the house, but I didn't hear her call out in greeting like she usually would have done. I thought that a little odd, but just then Cubs manager David Ross took out his starting pitcher in the fourth inning with the Cubs having a big lead, causing me to explode in anger and once again waking the dog.
It had to be at least five minutes before Traci finally made her way to the family room. She looked reflective, nervous maybe. She didn't come over to my chair and lean in for a kiss, as usual, but instead sat down on the edge of the sofa to the left of my chair. I watched her with one eye while I kept track of the game with the other.
"Can we talk for a minute, Bob?" she asked in a voice I was barely able to hear above the television.
By now she had my complete attention.
"Of course, Blondie," I answered.
I noticed she had a light sheen of sweat on her brow and seemed to be breathing erratically. I wondered if someone we knew was sick or had died.
"Can you shut the TV, Bob?" she asked as she clenched and unclenched her fists.
Shutting the TV in the middle of a Cub game? She knew what she was asking. This had to be something big: death, not illness. I got a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I grabbed the remote and shut off the noise box.
"What's up, baby? You don't look so good. Did somebody die or something?"
"God, no. Nobody died," she answered quickly. "It's just that this is very important to me, and I need to make sure you are completely listening to me."
I nodded without saying anything. I had a traffic jam of bad thoughts running through my brain.
We sat staring at each other for at least a half-minute. Her eyes showed fear and something else... maybe anger.
"You know I love you completely... and I would never cheat on you, never go behind your back with another man, right?"
This was not exactly the question I expected. Suddenly, the dinner I ate earlier in the evening and the two beers I had during the game felt like they wanted to make a re-appearance, right there on the family room floor. I nodded again mutely.
"I'm 45 years old, Bob. I've only slept with one man beside you in my entire life," she started. "I'm still a good-looking woman; my friends even say I'm a hot MILF. I-I-I want to sleep with another man, just once, so I can feel the thrill of a new man, a different man, one more time before you and I grow old together."
What the absolute fuck?
I sat stock still for... I don't know how long. It sounded like a speeding train was passing right by my ears.
"No. NO. ABSOLUTELY NO!" I yelled in response as I jumped out of my chair. "Not happening while I'm drawing breath!"
She watched me with wide eyes as I paced back and forth. This had to be a bad dream. I must have fallen asleep in my chair and be in the midst of a nightmare.
"It has nothing to do with you and me, Bob. This is all about me... my needs as a woman... above and beyond you and our family," she said, her voice seeming to get stronger and more assured as she spoke.
"I think I've been a pretty good wife and mother for all these years. I've always... always put the family first. This one time I need to do something for me. I need to do this to feel like a sexy woman... a sexy woman in control of her life."
"You don't feel like a sexy woman with me?" I asked, realizing I sounded like a whiny loser. "I tell you I love you all the time. I think I show you that you are a sexy woman all the time. I still lust after you, and I'm pretty sure I'm not too subtle about that."
"You do, and I love that, but this is about... something different. My ego still needs to be validated... by men other than you, Bob. It's nice to be noticed by other men. It's wonderful to think that another man would want me in that way. Doesn't it make you feel good when you see a woman looking at you or flirting with you?
"I'm no different than anybody else. I like to be looked at... lusted after. And after all this time, I want... no, more than that... I would like the experience of going out on a date, wined and dined as it were... then taken and lusted after by a different man... for just one night. Not love, just lust. One night. Then I would come home to you and be yours... be a plain wife and mother for the rest of my life."
"You're anything but a plain wife and mother to me, Blondie," I rejoined. "You're my everything. I can't let you go to another man. I won't let you go to another man."
"You keep telling me you love me. Why don't you show me how much you love me by giving this to me. I know it's a big ask... the biggest. And it would be the ultimate gift to me for you to let me have it," she stated.
"No, it would be the ultimate stupidity for me to let you have that. If you really loved me, you wouldn't have even asked," I said.
"Have I not been a pretty good husband to you and a good father to our kids? Should that not entitle me to a free pass as well?"
"But you had so many more women than I had men before we married. I'm just trying to even the score a bit," she said.
"Actually, we never discussed numbers before we were married. All we really discussed is how we both believed in fidelity after marriage. And, for your information, I've only slept with four women in my life, including you, not exactly a big list," I said.
"Oh, I always thought... you had so much more experience than me," she said. "You know so much more than me."
"I read a lot on the subject. I want to please you as much as possible."
"So it's still a hard no for you, then?" she asked.
"Not only a hard no, but I'll be seeing an attorney first thing Monday morning to start on a divorce," I said as shock registered on her face.
"But... but... but..." she stammered.
"I realize how hard this must have been for you to ask for the pass, so that tells me that you're really serious about this, which tells me that you're not going to let this go easily," I said. "That means that you will eventually go behind my back to get it done. I don't trust you not to, anymore... Unless you've already done it, and this was just a smokescreen to get permission after the fact."
"No, I swear to you that I haven't slept with anybody so far. I said I wouldn't cheat on you, and I meant that," she whined.
"But you would figure that now that I know you want to, that doing it now wouldn't be cheating," I said, looking directly at her.
Her inability to hold my gaze told me everything I needed to know.
"You would break up our family even though I haven't done anything yet?" she asked in a rasp.
"If you finally got up the nerve to ask, you've been planning this for a long time... and that tells me you've already got a target picked out. He's probably been in on the planning of this as well. Lunches? Dinners? You've already cheated on me, at least emotionally.
"By the way, who is he?" I asked.
"I didn't have anyone in particular picked out," she said, staring at a spot on the wall over my shoulder.
The silence lasted for about 15 seconds as I drilled a hole in her with my eyes. She turned bright red when she looked at me and realized I was staring at her, disbelief all over my face.
"You don't need to know, Bob," she said quietly.
"You're right. I don't need to know. But I want to know the name of the man who is breaking up what I thought was a great marriage. You can tell me, or I can call every one of your close friends, as well as your boss and all of your co-workers, and ask them," I said.
Her mouth dropped open in shock.
"Y-y-you wouldn't..." she started to say.
"Wouldn't I? What have I got to lose? My life is in the gutter, my marriage is gone. What's a little embarrassment to me?"
"What about my embarrassment?" she shrilled.
I shrugged and did my best to hide my smile.
"Name?" I asked harshly.
"Dan. Dan Wilson," she said quietly. "Please, Bob, don't hurt him."
"I guarantee nothing."
I grabbed the remote and turned the game back on. She harrumphed, sniffled back some tears, got off the sofa and went upstairs to our bedroom.
My eyes watched the rest of the Cubs game, but nothing registered in my brain. I couldn't even tell you what came on the screen after the game, but I know I sat in front of the TV for at least two more hours. While I think I did a pretty good job of hiding most of my feelings from my wife, in reality I was devastated. I had absolutely no clue my wife was planning on sleeping with another man.
In retrospect, I suppose I should have seen signs of her dissatisfaction with me, or her life or whatever. In the last three months, Traci had become somewhat distant with not only me, but also our children. In fact, my daughter, Sherri, was the first to notice, asking me if Traci and I had had an argument of some sort.
Intimacy between us had also fallen off, I had noticed. Sex two or three times a week had fallen off to once every other week, and not because I wasn't trying. I wondered if she wasn't going through some early changes.
Then there were the phone calls being taken out of the room, something that had almost never happened until recently, in addition to the almost-constant late-evening texting. When I inquired about that, she claimed it was Lisa, who was having problems with her husband, Jerry. That was more than interesting, because Jerry and Lisa lived just three doors down from us, and I had no clue they were having any problems.
I spent the remainder of the weekend thinking hard about my options. I told Traci that I was going to file for divorce as quickly as possible, but first I had to examine every aspect of that, my marriage and my family.
I certainly could understand how another man could lust after my Traci. She was beautiful when I met her when we were both 21, and at 45 she was only 10 pounds heavier, despite having two children. Her nice-sized boobs were matched by a tight ass, and her face made her look more like 35.
I always wondered how I wound up with Traci. She was clearly above my pay grade. It's not like I'm a troll or anything, being decent-looking, 5-11, 175, but guys who look like me don't often wind up with the prom queen, which she was just three years before as a high school senior.
We were both in the same astronomy class at Purdue University in our junior years. I was taking it just for fun, while Traci needed the course to fulfill her science requirement. I'm kind of a geek that way, and Traci figured out pretty quickly that I would happily help her pass the class, science not being her forte.
It was getting toward the end of the first semester and we were in my dorm room studying when Traci leaned in to me and kissed me hard on the lips. I kissed her back just as hard.
"God damn, for most of the semester I thought you were gay," Traci said to me when we broke the kiss. "No matter what outfit I wore, you never seemed interested."
"I was interested, girl, but I wouldn't have guessed it was reciprocal. I was just trying my hardest not to drool in front of you," I said.
We were exclusive right off the bat. I wasn't very experienced sexually, but I guessed she was even less so because she never complained and seemed quite pleased with everything I tried in bed, courtesy of my voracious reading on the subject. While every other guy my age was watching porn, I was reading about the acts everyone was watching.
It came in handy right from the start with Traci. The second time we had sex, I made her pass out by touching her pussy. At first I was concerned, never having made any of my three previous partners lose consciousness, but I figured she was okay since she was still breathing. When she opened her eyes two minutes later, all she could mumble was, "I love you, Bob."
We married two years after graduating. Our son came along three years later, followed by our daughter. We lived a pretty good life financially, as I was an IT guy and she was a banker when she returned to the workforce when our youngest went to school.
Our son was now getting ready to attend Ohio State as a freshman in a couple of months and our daughter was going to be a high school senior. In two short years, we were going to be empty-nesters. We had been discussing plans for our future, including travel, for the last several months.
I had loved this woman for almost 23 years. On the one hand, throwing that away for her asking for permission to cheat seemed overly harsh, but on the other hand I had already noted that her getting to the point of asking to cheat was a major problem. I wasn't born yesterday. I knew if she was that desperate to ask to be allowed to cheat, she would be desperate enough to go behind my back, especially since she already told me about it and didn't look at it as cheating, even though I did.
Of course, there was also the matter of her and Dan Wilson already having an emotional affair and planning this night of physical cheating together. Could I ever forgive that?
I called a divorce attorney first thing Monday morning and had an appointment for that Thursday afternoon.
Meanwhile, on the home front, Traci tried her best to persuade me not to file for divorce.
"We didn't do anything, Bob. We won't do anything," Traci cried.
"Because you don't want a divorce or because you know it's wrong?" I asked.
She wouldn't look at me or answer.
"You still are hoping I'll change my mind and let you, aren't you?"
That got me a hopeful look, which sadly sealed both of our fates.
I had Traci served one week after I met with my attorney. We lived in a no-fault state and made similar money, so the finances were easy. The kids were almost out of the house, so accommodations would be sorted as we went, with the non-custodial parent responsible for child support for one year. We would sell the house and split the proceeds. Boom. Done deal. Twenty-one years... over.
Not quite so fast.
Traci got a pretty sharp attorney who convinced the judge to order four counseling sessions, more if she felt it was necessary. The counselor, a mid-30s woman, had the same opinion that my kids and Traci had: since my wife didn't actually commit adultery, why did I feel divorce was my only recourse?
I told the counselor the same thing I told Traci and my kids: that I considered her request to have sex outside of our marriage to be tantamount to breaking our vows. Because of that, I no longer trusted her as a marriage partner. I might still love her to some extent, but I couldn't stay married to a woman I couldn't trust.
"But I will never try something like that again, Bob. I don't need anybody but you. Please," she pleaded over and over again for most of two sessions.
"You're never going to change your mind, are you, Mr. Rasmussen? I can see it in your eyes," the counselor said toward the end of the second session. "I'm going to end this farce and tell the judge to let the divorce proceed unhindered.
"My personal opinion doesn't count, but I'm still going to give it to you. I think you're making a monumental mistake here. Your wife hasn't cheated on you... at least physically... so it seems like you would welcome marriage counseling to keep your long-term marriage. Your wife seems willing to make whatever concessions you want to keep your marriage... and your family."
I know I grimaced and sighed. I loved Traci to death. I didn't make this decision by flipping a coin.
"There's the difference between the way you and I look at things, Dr. Baker. You called it a concession. I don't think her promising to be faithful is a concession. I think it's called keeping the wedding vows she made to me 21 years ago, and that she had schemed with another man to break," I explained.
My in-laws practically went apoplectic when Traci told them about the divorce. My mother-in-law called me the next day and shrieked invectives for a good 15 minutes, taking just one breath in that whole diatribe. She started to scream right after I said hello.
My father-in-law, who was always the more rational one, took the phone from her while she was still screaming.
"She didn't even cheat on you and you're divorcing her... after 21 years? Are you fucking nuts, Bob?" he yelled.
I gave him my version of the events that transpired and I could hear him making small strangling noises as I went along. Every now and then he would quietly utter, "Really?" and then I would continue on. At the end of the conversation, he seemed much smaller of spirit. He finally said, "I'm sorry, Bob," and quietly hung up.
I moved into a near-by two-bedroom apartment the next week. My daughter had decided to stay with my wife in the house for the next year until she went to college, but I figured the second room would come in handy if either kid wanted to stay over for a bit. They both were upset with me, even though they seemed to understand why I was divorcing their mother.
I had a friendly phone conversation with my neighbor, Jerry, a few days after I moved into my own place. I informed him that his wife, Lisa, had a hand in my wife's plans with Dan Wilson, and that Traci claimed he and Lisa were having marital problems. I told him I didn't think he was involved in the break-up of my marriage, but his wife was somehow involved, and considering how close she and Traci were, was Lisa also lining up a young stud to fuck?
"Oh fuck," Jerry rasped over the line. "So you're telling me I might have a problem, too? Does your attorney give out group rates?"
The social media phenomenon has both an upside and a downside. For me, an upside was getting all sorts of information about one Dan Wilson without even needing to hire a private investigator. Saved me a boatload of money.
Wilson was a co-worker of Lisa's, and had transferred in to the local office from Cleveland about six months before my marriage imploded. He had a very pretty fiancée who was still seeking a position in our city, so he was driving home almost every weekend to see her. Apparently he was trying to set up something with my wife for when he was in the city, so he would have a warm, welcoming pussy in both places. I wondered if Traci even knew about the kid's fiancée. Water under the bridgenow... except for the phone call I placed to Wilson's fiancée.
I heard soon afterward from some sources that Dan's wedding was called off, and his fiancée said he was welcome to have his "old lady" full time. Did I mention that his fiancée was the daughter of a very rich man?
Two weeks before the divorce was final was my 22nd anniversary with Traci. I had to admit I hurt inside for what I had lost, but the longer I sat in front of my Swanson TV dinner, the more I knew in my head I was doing the right thing for me. I would have spent the rest of my life looking for clues that she was cheating on me if I stayed married. I knew with every fiber of my being that sooner or later she would find a way to cheat on me... she hated to lose at anything and would see not getting her way as a loss that would need to be rectified. I sipped a shot of single malt and was in bed by 10 PM. Happy anniversary to me.
My phone rang about 1 AM and I noticed it was my soon-to-be ex-wife. I thought about letting it go to voice-mail, but since I was already awake, I answered the call.
"Ungh. Ungh. Ungh. Ah. Ah. Ah. Ooh fuck yeah!" she wailed, obviously in the throes of orgasm. I had heard the sounds often enough to know she wasn't acting.
There was more unintelligible squealing before Traci exhorted her partner, presumably Wilson, to fuck her harder. I should have ended the call immediately, but I was frozen in place. I listened in for another two minutes, long enough to hear Traci's paramour growl out his own release. I then hung up before they started cooing to each other post-fuck, wishing I was on a landline so she could hear me slam the phone down.
If I had even the slightest doubt that I was doing the right thing, that sealed our fate.
On the advice of my attorney, I had made it a habit to record all conversations with my wife. As I sat there with my blood pressure about to ring the bell, I hit the number for my in-laws, and when my father-in-law acknowledged his presence, I hit playback on my phone recorder app. I let the whole three minutes play for him, then ended the call. I was pretty sure there would be no repeats of that little one-act play in the future.
Unlike my wife, I didn't avail myself of the charms of others until the divorce became official, and even then I didn't take a woman to bed for more than a year. I'll admit that I struggled in my social life. It had been 24 years since I last dated, and since I never planned to date again, I hadn't been keeping up on the dating scene. Silly me. That proved to be a disastrous strategy, because the dating world certainly passed me by like a freight train on speed.
I knew some of my reluctance to date was in my head. I was afraid of being blindsided again. I loved Traci, and I never saw what happened coming my way... not even a hint.
The one thing that was easy to see that had changed since I last dated was the attitude of the women. When I was dating, it was all one-sided. The man picked out the target. The man asked said target for a date. If said target said yes, the man chose the activity and paid for everything. Nowadays, women seemed to be the hunters almost half the time, or at least had thoughts on how the date should go. Sometimes they even paid for things. There were times I felt like a dinosaur trying to chase a cheetah.
The dating scene showed me that Traci's sudden selfishness was not unicorn behavior. Along with feeling more empowered, today's dating women were definitely more self-centered. Many of them wanted theirs, even at the exclusion of their partners. If it was good for them, then it would be good for them and their significant others. Been there, done that... all fairly recently.
I'm not going to complain about the physical aspects of sex with a 20-something woman. Okay, the first few times the women about killed me. I was pretty sure I pulled a fuck muscle. Once I got used to the physicality, however, the enjoyment level was off the charts. I'm not saying Traci wasn't good in bed, but at 45 she didn't have the energy and flexibility of a 20-something. Of course, I didn't have the regenerative abilities of a twenty-year-old man, but my tongue and finger abilities helped me. It wasn't all about younger women, though. I dated—and fucked—women from about 25 to 55. I guess you could call me an equal opportunity fucker. Still, I always looked first for women about my age, in my comfort zone, so to speak.
It had been a rough week, and after finishing a meeting with a new client on the far side of the city, I stopped in at the bar of an upscale hotel/restaurant still wearing my suit. I sat down on a tall stool at the bar and ordered a shot of Glenmorangie single malt. It was about 7 when I walked in, and about an hour later, a group of women from a bachelorette party took up residence at a group of tables marked reserved. There must have been about 15 of them, and they were all being pretty raucous. I decided to hang around a bit and watch the fun, so I ordered a meal to be served at the bar.
The bride-to-be, of course, was the star of the show, and I noticed that she was a pretty girl of about 25, with waist-length light brown hair and big brown eyes. I'll admit that I'm a long-hair freak, so I was kind of taken by her and focused on her for several minutes before I started paying attention to the others in the party. It was then that I spotted her. She was about 40, I guessed, and by her age I figured she was the chaperone for the evening, the older mother hen brought along to watch out for the innocent—and not so innocent—younger chicks.
The first thing I noticed was that she seemed to be a little fidgety in her mid-thigh-length black skirt, which seemed to be riding up a little higher on her legs as she sat in her chair. Several times in the first few minutes she tried unsuccessfully to pull the skirt down. I smiled to myself. She did have nice legs.
She also seemed to have a sizeable chest not quite hidden under the tight lavender silk blouse she was wearing. The blouse was kind of a V-neck, with the opening coming down to the middle of her large breasts and showing that her alabaster skin wasn't often exposed to sun. When she wasn't worried about the length of her skirt, she was gazing down at her boobs, I'm guessing to make sure that not too much creamy skin was showing.
Her whole outfit was probably a little young for her comfort, and I guessed that it was put together for her by one of the younger women in the group. I gave some mental kudos to whoever picked it out and persuaded her to wear it.
The women definitely seemed to be enjoying themselves, laughing, drinking and eating, and when a three-piece combo started to play, several women got up and started to dance with each other.
The women dancing together seemed to embolden the other men in the bar, who started to approach the women on the floor and those at the table, except for their chaperone.
I waited about 10 minutes, and when no one made a move for the chaperone, I decided the coast was clear and made my way over to her. She had dark brown shoulder-length hair and bright green eyes, reminding me of Jacqueline Bisset in her heyday. Just as important, she wasn't wearing a wedding ring.
She blushed a gorgeous shade of pink when I asked her to dance. She hesitated at first, but then said yes, and several of the younger women seated near-by gave her a ration of grief as she got up, pulled her skirt down and took my hand.
The first two dances were fast, and I had to give my ex-wife a silent thank you for insisting I learn how to dance. The next dance was a slow one, and I was a little surprised when she melted her lush body into mine. Her hair smelled of White Shoulders, and I grinned to myself because that perfume is not exactly popular with younger women. We actually talked a little bit as we glided about the dance floor. I found out her name was Kathleen Franks, she was an aunt of the bride and the group chaperone.
She thanked me for the dances and started to leave the floor after the slow dance, but I held onto her hand and invited her to join me at the bar. She started to protest that she needed to watch "her girls," but I pointed out to her that she could see them just fine from my spot at the bar.
We watched the younger women and talked. I found out she was actually 48 years old and was divorced after being married for 15 years. She told me her husband, a man of means, had traded her in for a trophy wife who was 27 to his 48 when he married her three years ago.
She also told me that her outfit was chosen for her by her niece, the bride, and that she felt it was a little too young for her as she normally dressed more conservatively. I opined that her outfit seemed perfect for her, and I completely sucked up when I told her I absolutely loved her sexy heels. I had learned years ago that women really seemed to like having their shoes complimented.
"You don't think I look out of place dressed like this?" she asked innocently.
"Not in the least. Pardon me for saying so, but you look good enough to eat."
If I liked the pink blush before, I loved the dark red blush she now exhibited.
We talked for about 15 minutes. She noted that I didn't wear a wedding ring and wanted to know that story. She expressed surprise when I said that my ex-wife had never actually cheated on me physically.
"I'm really old-fashioned," I explained. "She cheated on me emotionally and had plans to do it physically. I couldn't trust her anymore. You don't tell someone you love them... but want to have sex with someone else."
"I get that," she answered. "Everybody has to have a line in the sand."
She went back to the bridal party table a few minutes later, but was more than receptive when I again asked her to dance about 30 minutes later. This time when we finished she took my hand and led me back to the table with the other women, which now also had several other men.
The evening was a success from my standpoint, even with the younger women being a little on the rowdy side. I was greatly surprised when Kathy invited me to be her plus-one at the wedding in two weeks.
"I was going to go by myself, but I know I'd have a better time with you. I know we've just met, but you've already met many of the girls who are going to be there, too," she said. "Besides, you'd be doing me a great favor because I wouldn't be there alone looking really pathetic."
"I definitely wouldn't want you to look pathetic. I would be more than pleased to accompany you to the wedding," I said. "Tell me what color you are wearing and I'll pick the suit I have that best goes along with that."
She leaned in to me and gave me a quick peck on the lips.
"Ooh-la-la," came the chorus from down the table.
I smiled brightly while Kathy blushed again. I could get used to that.
I sat with Kathy when we weren't dancing. During one of those times we were at the table, I kept my eyes on the bachelorette party girls, some of whom were obviously going overboard with their alcohol consumption. I'm the father of a teenage girl, so it wasn't out of character for me to be in "dad mode" with the young women around. When I saw a young man take one of the girls' hands and start to lead her toward the restrooms, I excused myself from the table and quickly and quietly made my way to them, getting to them just before the guy was about to push the girl inside the men's room.
The youngster looked at me with disdain, obviously not being intimidated by an older guy in a shirt and tie. I'll admit, at 5-11, 175, I'll never scare anybody on sight, but I'd like to think I'm still in good physical condition, and I had been in my fair share of scrapes as a kid. Sometimes you have to be willing to take some abuse to do the right thing, which in this case meant protecting some young girl from being this kid's sex toy. I would hope somebody would step in and protect my little girl if the situation called for it.
"Let go of my arm and get away from me, old man," he growled at me. "She's old enough to play if she wants."
I let go of his arm but used my other hand to palm his head and slam it hard into the wall to the side of the door. I shoved him hard enough to break the drywall, bloody his face and stun him. He suddenly didn't seem quite so cocky anymore and let go of the girl. He also didn't seem to want anymore of this disagreement.
The club had gotten quiet as people picked up on what had just gone down. Just as I started to guide Alicia back to the bachelorette party, Kathy and the rest of the group came up to us, grabbed the woman and led her back to the table. I was left standing face-to-face with the restaurant manager and another employee. I thought I was in trouble until the manager stuck out his hand and thanked me for helping the young woman.
"The police have been called. This yutz is going to jail. They'll probably want your information and your side of the story, but I don't think you have anything to worry about. By the way, your drinks for the rest of the night are on the house. Thank you again," he said.
"Wow. That was some crazy shit," said Wanda, the bride-to-be, when I got back to the table. "Thank you for paying attention... to more than just Aunt Kathy."
"How did you see that?" Kathy asked me. "I'm supposed to be the chaperone, and I didn't have a clue what was going on. I feel pretty bad about that."
"Not your fault. It's easy to lose track of 14 girls in a bar if you're not a professional security person... or a dad. Dads, at least most of us, have what I call Dadvision."
I talked and kibitzed with the women at the table until they decided to leave and go somewhere else for the remainder of their evening. I gave Kathy a soft kiss on the lips as we said good night, feeling pretty good about myself and having her digits in my phone.
"Get a room," one of the girls said to raucous laughter from the group.
I licked my lips softly and tasted Kathy's lipstick as I watched the women leave the restaurant. I took my drink back to the spot at the bar I had earlier occupied.
"That seemed to work out pretty good for you," the bartender chuckled as I sat back down.
"Who knew?" I laughingly replied. "A bachelorette party? Give me one for the road so I can celebrate my good fortune before I go."
My new best friend, Sean the bartender, earned himself a double sawbuck as a tip for the night.
Kathy's dress for the wedding was light blue, so I wore my dark blue pinstripe suit, which I consider to be my "own the room" suit. I thought we made a handsome couple, as did several of her relatives at the wedding.
Several people came up to me at the wedding and thanked me for looking out for Alicia. Apparently the bride had spent the previous two weeks telling everybody who would listen that I was some kind of a hero.
"Heroic and handsome, what a great combination," said Kathy's sister, Donna Fulham, the mother of the bride, as she glided up to us to introduce herself to me before the wedding. "Thank you for helping the girls a couple of weeks ago, and for making my sister look like she has gotten better taste in men."
I also met Kathy's 24-year-old daughter, Marissa, and her fiancé, Ben.
"Well at least one of my parents doesn't troll for dates at an elementary school," Marissa said upon meeting me. "Dad's absolutely going to hate you if you stick around long enough to get introduced to him."
By the time the reception was over, I knew Kathy and I would go the distance. I introduced her to my kids a month later. My son took to her quickly; my daughter was a bit standoffish. She was still somewhat pissed at me for divorcing her mother "even though Mom didn't even cheat on you." My son got it, though. He had a serious girlfriend, and we had the full discussion on fidelity and what it meant to each of us one night.
Epilogue:
My wife, Kathy, and I retired several years ago. We celebrated our 25th anniversary with an Alaskan cruise. With the help of a daily Cialis and Astroglide, we make love every morning before we shower and get on with our lives. At our age, it's more about "connecting" than it is about sex.
All three of our children are married and doing well. We have a total of six grandchildren.
I've only talked to my ex-wife maybe a couple dozen times since our divorce; counting our kids' weddings and Christmas holidays. She's been married and divorced a second time. My kids tell me she blames me for her life being what it is.
"I never actually cheated on him," she still tells them.
Some people just don't get it.
