Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, .
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Greg lost his wife and daughter while keeping his two grand daughters. This is a story of finding his way.
It’s been two years now, but the pain is still fresh. My wife of almost twenty years was crushed by an out of control tractor-trailer rig that had jumped the median two years ago.
My daughter asked me less than six months later to keep my two granddaughters while she and her husband had some private time together. Their plan was to fly a small plane west and visit some of his friends in Texas before flying to California, up the coast, and then back home on a leisurely vacation. My daughter and her husband were both pilots. That’s how they met. I was teaching him during his second month of lessons and was going to have to be out of town for a week. Alicia was also an instructor now, and said that she would give all my lessons. She gave Gordon his lesson that day, and became Mrs. Gordon three months later.
Something happened while flying over Arizona that I have no clue about what it was as they were both very safety conscious pilots, but the plane went down anyway. A witness said that the plane nosed over and fell from ten thousand feet. I couldn’t be devastated because I needed to be positive for the girls.
My son went crazy and immediately flew out there to have a forensic mechanic go over every scrap of what was left of the aircraft. There was never an answer that gave us any satisfaction. My son and his wife have two kids, and really didn’t have room for two more. The family thought that it would be good for me and my mental health at age 44 to raise a couple of granddaughters.
The day that became a final decision was a tough one for me. I tried to explain why I wouldn’t be the ideal parent. My son and his wife said that the girls would cling to me although they would still want to be involved with their cousins. I hugged the girls that night, just as it had been since the tragedy, kissing them and telling them how much I loved them until they fell asleep.
Let me back up and tell you how I got to where I was at in life. My parents were very strict when it came to my education. I know that they pushed me from what would be pre-school on. I went from kindergarten to second grade my first year in school. My folks would get the books and we would make a game out of reading and taking the end of chapter tests. Math was supposed to slow me down, but the way my dad would show me how to figure things was fun. I went to school with a mini slide rule that clipped onto my shirt pocket in the fifth grade, and the teacher told me that I was just trying to show off. I was fairly bashful, but proud that Dad had been teaching me how to use it. I challenged her to see who could find a square root the fastest; her with a hand calculator, and me with the slide rule. It wasn’t a contest, since I had the answer in less than twenty seconds while she was still entering numbers.
The folks had to come to school and be interviewed to make sure that I was being allowed time to be a kid. I thought I was because I played baseball and soccer with my friends, but I read books instead of watching TV. My sister had skipped a couple of grades, but it wasn’t the same with boys. Boys were supposed to be slower. Boys were interested in other things. Boys didn’t want to learn and read. I guess I was the exception. I finished high school at fourteen and had a hell of a time getting admitted to a university. Scholarships seemed to want popular kids, not some fourteen-year-old. Dad was able to negotiate a flat fee deal with the University of Tampa for me to be in their special education classes.
These people were skeptical because they were used to the children of wealthy parents, not a commoner like me. My first semester was scheduled for twenty hours, but I also had three one hour classes for freshmen. I later found out that they thought I would be so inundated with trying to take that many hours and would quit, and they would be out of their obligation. I admit that it was tough to be dropped off at the University at seven thirty in the morning and picked up after nine at night almost every day, but I used all my free time between classes to study and read ahead. I had enough spare time to be a part of an intramural baseball team that was a lot of fun.
It was during my second year at ‘UT’ that I became attracted to the buzzing of the airplanes that took off and landed at the nearby small airfield next door to our home. I would be over at the airfield being a bother to everyone on the nights and weekends I didn’t have classes. I washed airplanes just to be near them. The older mechanic there delighted in showing me how to do things as I became more helpful. I would take manual after manual home to read, and then could relate to what I was doing with the mechanic. I would get the proper manual and show him what I had read if I saw we might be doing something wrong. He would often show me some bulletins that he didn’t keep with the manual so that I would know why he did what he did.
I had begun trading work for flight lessons by the time I was sixteen. I finished my master’s degree at UT at seventeen, and flew for my pilot exam on my birthday. It took me six months to finally convince one of the major investment firms that I would be an asset. My immediate boss was skeptical and really piled the work on, but it was mostly boring repetitive stuff. I streamlined several processes in order to get it all done without working late every night and that proved to save the company a bunch in overtime labor on hourly people. The bosses didn’t understand that I needed to be off at night to go for another lesson toward the next stage of my flying goals. I was still trading out labor for lessons, but at eighteen, I had now earned an aircraft power plant and airframe mechanic license to work on Cessna and Beechcraft reciprocal engines and aircraft. The old mechanic kept telling my dad that I would probably be more valuable at the airfield than at the very tall downtown Tampa building I worked in.
Disaster struck just before I turned nineteen. I lost my heart to a girl from the secretarial pool. It was a total mess. I went to their area a couple of floors beneath mine to get some notes typed and collated in the order I needed them. The group director pointed me to a girl on the end of a row of cubicles who would do what I needed. Something happened to me and my mind on the way to her cubicle. I floated to where she sat and stood next to her. I thought I was having a heart attack when she turned and smiled at me. She later told me that I had turned bright red and was actually shaking as if very nervous. She said, “Can I help you, Sir?”
I almost fainted. She was gorgeous. She was beautiful. She was radiant and appealing and totally made me tongue-tied. “Ah, ah, I’m Greg from middle accounts, ah, and I need, ah, I need you to put these into a different order than what they are now.”
My voice was almost choking trying to talk and be mesmerized at the same time. She smiled again, and said, “I’m Darla Mikenzie and I’ll be happy to do this. Show me how you want it to be when I’m finished and tell me how many copies you want.”
“Ah, Ah, it’s not a rush job, but I do need it by tomorrow afternoon. I have to use it to make a presentation of an idea I have. Can you call me to look it over before you duplicate it?” I paused a second to get myself under control. “Um, do you want to do something after work this evening? I’m too young to drink, but we could go somewhere for coffee or a soda.”
Darla looked both ways and checked her department supervisor before almost whispering. “How about we meet out front after work? We can go to the canteen on the corner for something. I’d like that.”
That was it. From there on she became a daily passenger on the trip home with me, and she would then visit with my mom while I would go to the airfield and play mechanic or take a lesson. We got married in a very traditional back yard setting a year later. She had a nice dress that had been both her grandmother’s and mother’s wedding dress. My best man was my dad who was delighted at being there. Darla’s dad was very intimidating because he was one of the top executives where we both worked. He said that he had heard of me the first time I met him, since I was so young to have an MBA. I didn’t tell him that my pilot’s license and aircraft mechanic’s license were more important to me.
The two of us found a tiny rustic country place to live in that must have had the right water. Darla was instantly pregnant, actually so fast that we were accused of doing some pre-nuptial cohabitation. Both of us were pretty slow when it came to doing a lot of petting and had resisted that final act until our wedding night. We found out that we liked making babies, and she found out that she liked raising them.
Our landlord was getting old to the point that he thought he should sell his properties and maybe get somewhere where he could have supervision. He thought that he needed a nursing home. I objected because I had refurbed the once shack to be a very nice property. He agreed with me and offered me the about two hundred fifty acres the house was on. The land boundaries were very long and not all that wide. I brought my dad out to see if he could see what I saw. I described an idea I had, and then took my offer to the old man who owned the place.
I remember Darla and me talking to the old owner with an infant on her lap. I described it all in detail with some drawings of what it might look like. The old guy said, “Let me carry the note on this for you at one percent interest. Your part of this is to give me a ride in an airplane. I’ve always wanted to go for a ride in one and you’re going to give it to me.”
That was easy. The payments weren’t going to be that much higher than our rent had been, so we would be putting savings away at about the same rate we had been. My mentor at the local airfield told me about an airplane that had to be rebuilt because the owner had nosed over from a nose gear that collapsed while landing, so the engine might be totally gone, plus the airframe would have to be gone over in detail. The insurance company wanted too much for the salvage, but I submitted my bid anyway. I figured I might even be bidding a little high knowing how most pilots felt about aircraft that had been wrecked. I probably was, because my bid was accepted two weeks after submitting it.
We paused a few minutes to evaluate where we were when Darla said that baby number two was on the way. We would both keep working at the investment firm until the baby arrived, and then I would start with my idea of running a private pilot’s school from my own airfield.
I worked hard at clearing and leveling over eight thousand feet, because I knew that I would want to have a hard runway for larger aircraft in time. My brother, dad, and I tore down and rebuilt two large pole barns that were the right size for small aircraft hangars. The price was right, because they were free to get them out of where they were.
Darla had her family medical leave to have our darling Alicia, and decided she wouldn’t go back to work. We were sitting on a pretty good chunk of savings when old man Duffy came out to talk about our mortgage with him. He floored us when he said, “You two have worked to enlarge the house, built those two metal barns you’re using for hangars, and buried that giant fuel tank. I like what you’re doing and where you’re going. How about I cancel the rest of this mortgage with you and you begin doing what you wanted to do when you began living here? Use my name when you name the field, and I’ll know that the name will become almost immortal. Let me help you with some financing to make this work.”
This young couple was totally overwhelmed by an old guy who wanted to be a part of something from the beginning. The man was right at my side as I leveled the field to be perfectly smooth and planted grass that wasn’t as needy of rain as most. The old man delighted in running the tractor pulling the mower back and forth on the much longer than necessary runway. He went with me to auctions all over the southeast to bid on items that would help us in the future.
Private pilot’s license classes began every other week. There were only two to four in a class in the beginning, but that increased to eight in almost every new class. The rebuilt Cessna 172 was constantly busy with lessons, so I became the buyer of an old Cessna 150 that needed a thousand hour teardown inspection. I devoted every night that I wasn’t teaching an instrument student to work on the old aircraft. I replaced every control cable, the prop, had the seats recovered, replaced the radios with new digitals, all new lights, and rebuilt the engine to be perfect. I flew the plane with students for the entire first month that it was back in action so that the other two instructor pilots I had were confident that the aircraft was in good shape. I soon found a Piper tri-pacer at a real bargain price. It needed an annual, but the more I tore into the aircraft, the more I realized that it had been babied. The Piper became a popular plane for students to do their first solo.
Old Duffy loved the field and the youth who came for lessons. Everyone was youthful to him.
He asked me one day if I might want to pave a runway so that we might draw more air traffic to us for fuel or maintenance. I now had a large hangar and four mechanics who worked on aircraft sent to us on a continuous basis. Darla took care of the business side and loved to be in the little three story tower to talk to traffic on the ground and coming in to land. Duffy said that he had gone to see how some of the busier fields operated and knew that we were on the right track.
“Duffy Field” ended up with a 7500 foot paved runway with a 250 foot overrun on both ends. Our initial prep work had been good enough that the company doing the paving didn’t have a problem paving our runway. The instructors (who now included Darla) used the two thousand foot grass area on the other side of the hangars for the time the runway was being paved. Night lights were temporary and not encouraged unless we had a situation. Our power bill would skyrocket if we used those lights.
The almost ninety year old man was as ecstatic as any of us when the runway was opened. He told me, “You have done exactly what you said you would. You took this bunch of overgrown weeds and wild hogs, and delivered a very nice airfield.”
Duffy was in a mellow mood when it was quiet except for a few buzzing insects that evening. “Look at what you’ve done so far, Greg. You have a nice home, a wonderful wife, two really great kids, and now a business you have to be proud of.” The old man would often stay overnight with us and be up early in the morning while I did all my field checks and prepared for the new day.
Duffy was 94 when he passed away in the bed and room I had added on just for him. The old buzzard surprised me when the lawyer read the will to me and a bunch of expectant relatives who I didn’t know he had by saying that he wanted to be cremated and his ashes spread by me from the first airplane he had flown in. The kids thought of him as a grandpa, while Darla and I thought of him as a special friend. He left the bulk of his estate to an assortment of relatives and charities. His special surprise to us was some plans for a large home, some additional buildings for the airfield, and a very long list of improvements we had discussed. He left sufficient money for the taxes to be taken care of, and a list of aircraft that he thought we should have to teach our students.
Duffy Airfield and Pilot Training School would continue.
With the new runway and a new ILS system installed, Duffy Airfield became a popular place to stop over when traveling in Florida. Open-staked tiedowns were free, but we did have an airfield charge. We sold enough fuel since our prices were considered discounted and the lowest in the area. Zephyrhills was only a nickel a gallon higher, but we were closer in to the city. We would waive the field charge if a visiting plane took on fifty gallons or more of fuel.
The kids grew up around airplanes, learned to work on them, and helped me keep the huge area mowed so that the characters with the experimental aircraft could use the grass runway. Barney (Bernard Gregory) was a sponge when it came to school and learning aircraft. He finished high school at fifteen, had a bachelor’s degree at eighteen, and that was all for him as all he wanted to do is fly like his parents. He was an instructor at nineteen with more hours than many old pilots. He was right there begging to be right seat to get the hours if someone was going somewhere. He would read and memorize the manual for the aircraft he was flying in and often taught the owner and left seat pilot a lot about the aircraft.
Alicia was quicker than Barney. She had a ton of hours to pass her exam on her seventeenth birthday. She took her commercial exam the following day, and her instrument exam the next. She only had a hundred hours to go until she could reach her goal to become an instructor at seventeen and three days old. The examiner loved the kids, but was brutal when it came time to test them. Barney would sometimes become flustered, but Alicia never blinked. She was smart, and very safety minded.
That’s how it happened. My Darla was lost in a fiery collision with a huge tractor-trailer rig. My Alicia, the mother of my two granddaughters, was also gone. What was left of the kids’ bodies was cremated and sent home to be spread over our special airfield. Her husband’s parents went with me in the now ancient Cessna 172 to spread the couple’s ashes over the area they had grown up in.
I had a lot of help from relatives and my daughter-in-law in the beginning, but she had home responsibilities with Barney and her two kids that kept her from us. I needed a housekeeper, cook, and child care to help take care of the two girls now three and five.
Agencies weren’t the place to go because they were geared for nannies who only took care of the kids while others did the housework and cooked. I cut down on students and didn’t begin a new class every other week. I tried to have six students start once a month so that the instructors could keep up. I tried to take care of the bookkeeping and office stuff but very rapidly fell behind.
I wasn’t keeping up and I wasn’t giving the kids the love they needed. I tried once again to get Barney and his wife, Debby, to take the girls, but they kept telling me that they just couldn’t. Debby often came over and washed clothes for me, but just the general housekeeping was more than I could do plus run a business.
As I was getting the girls ready to go to Sunday School one Sunday, a neighbor lady came by and asked if it would help if she took the kids to church. I was going to jump at the chance to have an extra hour or so to do household chores. I looked at the woman, sincerely thanked her, and said, “I need to take these two to church every Sunday so that we can stay close to our beliefs. They feel that they can talk to their mom and dad once a week and I need that too. The woman hugged me and left.
While the kids were running wild on the church lawn after the main service, the pastor’s wife, Jenny Rose, asked, “Have you considered hiring some help for your granddaughters? One of our new members is a sweetheart and is looking for work, as well as a possible home.”
The preacher, Jim, and I had become friends over the years, and he sort of edged me away from the big ears of the ladies. He leaned close to me and said, “You need to know this isn’t an older lady, but a young woman who was horribly treated. She came to Jenny and me to see if we might find her a place to work and live so that she could be away from those who mistreated her. This girl is extremely attractive and might be a temptation, Greg. Heck, even Jenny says our love life has taken a boost since we took this girl in. She has experience taking care of kids because she was the youngest child of a big family and was responsible for her nieces and nephews. How about we get some takeout and eat at your place today? This will give the kids a break from your cooking and Jenny and Melinda will have a chance to look at your place.”
I was desperate and Jim knew it. This babe could have been three hundred pounds, horse-faced, and I wouldn’t have cared. I was a buyer if she could run a household and give the kids some love.
Jim and Jenny selected Kentucky Fried Chicken and brought salads and sandwiches. My girls loved the tiny buns with the pieces of chicken. I didn’t care one way or another because I was always hungry. What I did care about is the tall woman who got out of Jim’s and Jenny’s back seat. Holy shit! She was gorgeous, not only attractive, but built too. I might have paid for a night with her if she hadn’t been recommended by the preacher. She was that attractive.
My girls loved her. Joan and Jean were all over her as soon as she was in the house. They had her in their room changing clothes and then in the master bedroom finding some of my late wife’s shorts and a top for her to wear after our meal.
While the girls were showing Melinda everything they could, Jenny asked, “Can you keep your hands off her? Jim had me in the bedroom every chance he had while she wandered around our place.”
“I don’t know, Jenny. She is very nice looking, but I’ll overlook that if she’s willing to give the kids the care they need.”
We ate lunch and then I took everyone to look at the various aircraft that weren’t in use and to watch some of the crazies who played with the experimental aircraft takeoff and land while learning how to fly the powered kites they built.
We were back at the house when Jim and Jenny made motions to leave. Melinda looked confused as the kids were holding onto her and telling her we had a lot of room if she wanted to stay. Joan was the oldest, and said, “Our momma is gone forever and our grandpa needs a new grandma. You can be in there with him or you can be in Grandpa Duffy’s room. It’s all cleaned out and ready for someone new.”
Melinda stood in front of me, and said, “I want to try to stay here and be the nanny for your granddaughters. You have a beautiful home with all nice appliances so that I can keep the beds clean. I promise to be more than just someone for the girls to come home to.”
Melinda rode with me following Jim and Jenny to their home. We collected her few clothes and headed for home after all of us were given hugs and an unexplained kiss from Jenny. I swear that if Jim hadn’t been there I might have let that kiss linger another minute or so as it torched both of us. Damn, that isn’t the way to earn my way to heaven.
The girls were in the back seat of my crew cab pickup, happy that they were going to have someone to be with them while I was working. I made up a big jar of tea and filled a couple of glasses with ice. I let the young lady put some sugar into her glass, then sit upright while I talked to her.
“Although it’s been two years, Melinda, we’re still learning how to get along without my wife and the kids’ parents. My daughter and her husband were instructor pilots and mechanical helpers here at the airfield. I’ll try to teach you what to do so that you can be the air and ground traffic controller in the tower. You actually are more of an air traffic controller because even though most all of the people fly around here under VFR traffic rules, they still have to be controlled when in the local pattern. You use the light beam if you’re trying to get the attention of one of the experimental pilots. You use the red light to stop them where they are. They are to go back to their tiedown or hangar area if you show them a flashing red. Everyone will be required to have a radio by the first of September, but the lights will still be used to back up what you broadcast. I won’t make you do that stuff right away. A couple of the instructors’ wives love to work the tower and are here most every day. Your job is to keep the kids and house clean. You can make our meals if you like to cook, otherwise I’ll cook for us.”
“I’m not sure about the kids’ school this year. They have been homeschooled so far as kindergarten goes and are pretty far ahead. You’ll find out that all the kids in the family are pretty far ahead in school. My three, almost four year old, can read first and second grade books. My kindergarten age five year old, going on fifteen, is doing third and fourth grade work. I need someone to continue teaching the two as fast as they want to learn new ideas and concepts.”
I sat at the table looking across at Melinda, and said, “I’m not really a hard ass or usually as pushy as I’m sounding right now. I want someone to help the kids and maybe help me. I think I’ve spoken to half the divorced women in the county and maybe the state who have stopped by or called. They all think I have money because I’m the registered owner of the airfield and my revenue is decent if you read the public sales tax records. I paid a lot of taxes last year, but a lot of that was property tax because of the property appraiser went nuts on me. I have legal recourse and have started, but it might take years to settle something like this.”
“What I’m getting at is how much should I pay you and how much are you willing to do for me and the girls?”
Melinda looked up at me and smiled. She nervously looked to both sides, and softly said, “Marry me and you won’t have to pay me anything.”
Jesus H. Christ. Did she just say what I think she said? It made me so nervous that I knocked my coffee cup over with a couple of swallows left in it.
Melinda was out of her chair and had grabbed some paper towels from over the counter and was wiping up the small amount of spill before I could jump up. She smiled at me again and said, “See, I know how to react to a crisis. I told you what I told you because it would be the answer to a dream. I could be happily married and my family couldn’t come after me any longer. They’ll be here to forcibly move me back to the house as soon as they find out where I am. I can’t call it my home because I hate that place so much. You may want to send me away when I tell you about my home life.”
I got up, poured her some more tea, poured myself some more coffee, and nuked it to get it warm. I pulled the cookie jar from the counter, set it on the table, and took out a homemade peanut butter cookie.
The cookie jar has a distinctive clunk when you set it down which instantly drew two mini people. The girls came running into the kitchen and stood at an almost attention stance when the older of the two, Joan, asked, “Can we have a cookie too? We promise to eat what you feed us for supper.”
How do you refuse your granddaughters when they are so courteous? I asked them, “How about a little glass of milk to go with the cookie?”
Both gave me an agreeable smile. I pulled two paper cups from the dispenser and poured a half glass of milk into each.
Jean took a cookie from the jar and pushed her cup of milk toward Melinda. She went to the young lady and climbed up on her lap. After leaning her head back on Melinda’s generous chest, the three year old asked, “Will you be my mother or grandmother if Grandpa marries you?”
Joan slammed her hand over Jean’s mouth and turned scarlet. The little devils had been eavesdropping.
I motioned for Joan to come to me, picked her up, and held her on my lap. “You both know that listening to what the adults are talking about can be confusing. I don’t think that I’m ready to have someone be the person to take your grandmother’s place.
I was holding one of my precious granddaughters and looking across the table at the other one who still had the question on her lips. This had become an emotional moment for me and water kept leaking from my eyes and running down my cheeks.
Jeanie asked Melinda, “Is Grandpa crying?”
Melinda said, “He needs to cry to find a place in his heart for me. I want you two to go back to the living room and not listen to us. I’m going to be here for you, and we will be great friends, but I must tell your grandpa some things.”
Joan gave me a kiss on a tear-stained cheek. She got down and softly said, “We love you, Grandpa.”
Melinda got up when the two were gone, and looked around the side of the doorway to make sure the kids were in the living room watching TV. She was shaking her head when she sat down. “Do you know that they are on the couch where they would be to watch TV, but they are both reading books? Is that normal?”
“Yeah, that’s pretty normal for those two.”
Melinda fiddled with the spoon that she had used to put sugar in her tea. She looked up at me, and said, “My brothers and my dad used me as their personal toy since I was ten. They beat me so bad that I couldn’t see, talk, or eat for a couple of weeks every time I tried to run. My mother wasn’t treated much better, but they weren’t brutal with her like they were with me. I was pregnant twice and lost both babies because of how brutal they were to me. They said that I wasn’t much use to them if I was pregnant.”
Now it was Melinda’s turn to have water running from her eyes down her cheeks. “They would use me one after the other when they would tie me to the bed until I was bleeding. They would be tired and too drunk to cut me loose, so I would still be laying there in all their mess the next day. Mom would come and cut me loose when the men all left the house.”
“Junior bought a car with an automatic transmission. I had never learned to drive, but I knew a little about how everything worked. One day Junior left the keys in the ignition when the men left to cut timber. I stole what money was in the hope jar we had in the kitchen and figured out how to drive Junior’s new used car. I drove it all the way around Lake Okeechobee to Lakeland, and left it in a grocery store parking lot. I used the money I had to buy a bus ticket to Tampa and wound up at the preacher’s house because he was a rescue person. He and his wife listened to me tell this same story, and took me to a hospital to be checked. It was decided that I didn’t have any diseases and that I was telling them the truth. They kept me all week and took me to church today. They pointed you and your two granddaughters out, and told me about your family’s losses. I told them to get me to you and I would help you.”
We both sat there for a few minutes, thinking about what Melinda had just said, until she spoke up, “Please let me show you that I’m a good person. I will be good for your granddaughters and I can be good for you. Don’t throw me away because I’ve been used by my family.”
Wow! You can’t judge someone with that kind of baggage. You go through various emotions from ‘I’ll just go and kill them all’ to ‘maybe the law might want them for keeping a young girl prisoner’.
“I think you might enjoy the bedroom on the end of the hall, Melinda. The kids call it Grandpa Duffy’s bedroom. He was a wonderful man who lived there until his last breath. He was around 94 when he passed away, so you can guess he had a good life. Go take a look at the room and put your clothes there. We’ll feed the girls dinner and put them to bed afterwards, and then I’ll give you the schedule for tomorrow.”
“Do me a favor, Greg; just call me ‘Mel’ instead of Melinda all the time. My family insisted on calling me Melinda, so this will be something new and welcomed.”
The girls had gone outside to play on their swing set. Jean loved to be pushed on the swing by Joan, and was laughing and giggling the entire time. I was standing at the big sliding back door watching the girls when a body leaned in and put her arm around me. It felt so much like Darla that I had to hold back the sob that wanted to come out.
I told Melinda, oh yeah, it’s Mel now, “We should feed them some soup, give them a bath, another cookie, and put them to bed. I want all of us to be ready for what could be a busy day. Tomorrow is the start of an eight-person ground school in the morning, some lessons through the morning, and an instrument class tomorrow afternoon.
I stripped, quickly showered, and crawled into bed the way I always did when the kids were down for the night and Mel was in her room. That would be naked. I heard the radio that was softly playing in Mel’s room while I went to sleep.