A Bird in the Hand
Copyright © 2007 by Nick Scipio
Prologue
Coming of Age Sex Story: Prologue - Is there more to life than sex? Having had time to clear his head, Paul struggles to define exactly what he’s looking for in a partner. His past relations have brought plenty of passion, fun, and opportunities to explore. Still, they haven’t ended particularly well. Maybe it’s time to consider which head influences his decisions more and what he’s truly trying to gain from his escapades.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Ma/ft ft/ft Fa/ft Mult Teenagers Consensual Drunk/Drugged Romantic BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Historical School Sharing Incest Mother Son Brother Sister Father Daughter Gang Bang Group Sex Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory Swinging Anal Sex Double Penetration Exhibitionism Masturbation Oral Sex Safe Sex Voyeurism Caution Nudism Slow Violence
The phone rang.
It rang again, and I blinked to clear my head.
I turned as it rang a third time, but my thoughts were still in the past. When I finally picked up the receiver, I heard my wife talking to Leah, so I quietly hung up.
After a long moment I turned back to my drafting table. I’d been sitting in front of an elevation drawing full of lines and numbers and symbols. I had the full-color artist’s rendering somewhere, but I didn’t need it. I could see the finished building in my head. That was my gift. Mozart heard symphonies—I saw buildings.
I focused on the drawing for the first time in ... hours. I’d been sitting at my table since mid-afternoon, but I hadn’t really been here. I’d been thinking about the past. About college. I smiled sardonically. I’d made a lot of mistakes—I shook my head at the sheer stupidity of some of them—but I’d also grown up. A lot.
I turned as my wife entered the room.
“That was Leah on the phone,” she said. “She wanted to make sure we knew.”
I nodded. Then I tried to smile, but it was tinged with grief. My wife’s answering smile was an echo of my own. I’ve always been amazed by how we could communicate without actually speaking. My parents did the same thing. I guess I was more like them than I wanted to admit, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
My wife gently prodded me from my silence. “You’ve been in your own little world, haven’t you?” She saw the truth in my eyes.
“How’s Leah?” I finally asked.
“She’s still in shock. We all are. But she’s doing the only thing she can.”
I met her eyes. Life goes on, I answered silently.
She nodded. “She and Mark and the kids are flying out tomorrow afternoon.”
I sighed and threatened to turn introspective again.
“It’s six o’clock,” my wife continued. It was a gentle reminder. “I need to pick up Susie and go to the grocery store. You need to—”
“Pick up Emily and get Laurie from practice,” I finished. Then I smiled, although it was more for myself than my wife. She understood. We both had things to do, errands to run, lives to live.
Life goes on.
I grew thoughtful on the short drive to Trip’s house. The air conditioner labored to cool the big SUV, but I hardly noticed the heat. Summer is hot. I felt a stab of bitter anger—summer is hot, and people die. It was a fact of life. I didn’t have to like it, but I’d have to live with it.
Trip was throwing a baseball with his son when I pulled up. They both waved, and Trip tossed the ball to Davis. The boy—now a young man, all arms and legs—headed toward his pitching net. As Trip approached, he saw my expression and grew concerned.
“Is everything okay?”
When I told him, he let out a breath like someone had kicked him in the chest. I knew the feeling. He asked how I was holding up, and recognized my answer for the lie that it was. Thankfully, he let it go, so I told him about the funeral plans.
“Are you going to fly yourself?” he asked.
I nodded. “I thought we’d take the King Air, so you and Wren and the kids can go with us.”
“Okay. When?”
